Murder, child
by Neednotknowtheirname
Summary: Mysterious events of the past coalese in the present. What part do these seemingly unrelated events play in the life of one Elizabeth Bishop? She has a secret, one she fears will be discovered. So why does she reveal it to someone she can't possibly trust
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable from other sources does not belong to me.

** 1 Do You Believe In Magic?**

The auburn haired man bent over the steaming beaker, taking care that his long red beard did not trail in whatever liquid the beaker held. In his hand he held a pair of metal tongs, which he snapped together impatiently as he peered into the beaker with twinkling blue eyes.

After some time, the twinkling reached a crescendo. "Aha!" He snapped the tongs rapidly several times and then dipped them into the beaker. The steam was cold, ice cold, and it chilled his skin, which prickled with excitement. He peered closely at the object he removed. The ruby red stone sat snugly in the tongs, too cold to be held. It was a beautiful specimen, and shone as if some light existed within the ruby prism.

"Nicholas," he declared, "I do believe we are getting close! What say you?"

A man sitting at the table looked up from his note-taking. "I quite agree, Albus," replied the brown haired man with an equally long beard and equal enthusiasm.

Albus gave a pleased nod and walked around the wooden work table to a smaller silver table that sat under a window. It was quite elegant, spindly and silver with intricate engravings. Atop the table sat a dozen more red stones, differing in brightness and shape. Beside the last one, Albus deposited the ice cold one, and paused to gaze proudly at the array. Suddenly, he dropped the tongs, which clattered on the stone floor.

"Oh my!" he gasped, looking wildly about him, bending over to peer beneath the spindly silver table.

"Albus? What is it?" asked Nicholas, hurrying over.

"One of our stones is missing! Have you taken it to examine?"

Nicholas paled at the words. "No! Good gracious, where can it be?!"

"We must search the castle at once! If it has been stolen, perhaps the thief is not away yet!"

"Good Merlin, do you really think...." Nicholas trailed off, and ran after Albus to begin their search of the castle.

A search which both Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel had the terrible feeling was going to be futile.

----=[]o[]=----

**Many Years Later, In The Middle Of The Night**

A tall pale man stood in a dark chamber, his robes folded around him as he surveyed the contents of the room. Treasures occupied the places along the wall; not so many, but what was there held testament to the greatness and station his family had once held.

Much of the family's monetary wealth had been squandered over the preceding generations, and their reputation lost with it. The man sneered at the thought. He would not be one to carry on the tradition of weak wizards and second class citizens that had sprung up in his family's recent history. No, he _would not_.

Already, he was well on his way to greatness. Eventually, all he sought would be his, and his family's name would once again be awed. Before him, all would bow.

The man's thoughts halted when right before his eyes a statue disappeared with a pop. Pop pop pop! He spun, aghast, as every item in the chamber disappeared.

He leapt forward in an attempt to save at least one treasure, one family heirloom, but his cold, claw like fingers clutched on thin air.

**Even More Years Later**

Connall sniffed sulkily as the child services officer handed him over to the orphanage attendant.

"This is Connall Grubb. Michael, this is Connall."

Connall looked up at the man. He looked to be in about his mid thirties, with straggly brown hair and an unpleasant expression on his hard face.

"Well, come on then Connall. Let's get ye off to bed. It's late already."

Connall nodded and followed the man inside, looking gloomily over his shoulder as the heavy door swung shut behind them, leaving them in darkness.

He was led to a small bedroom, a brass number seven nailed to the wooden door. The room was empty save for an old wooden bed, and Connall collapsed miserably onto it when Greg shut the door.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep, but when he did, it was not for long. He was woken by something he would never forget.

The sheets twisted around him, tightening, loosening again, throwing him in the air, spinning him around. A wind whipped around the room, but the window, even though it rattled loudly in its frame, was closed.

Frightened out of his wits, he screamed. "Help! Help me!"

He was still yelling and trying to battle his way out of the sheets when a minute later and much to his relief, the door was flung open to reveal Greg, looking entirely put out and not a bit surprised. The moment Greg appeared, the room fell ominously silent, the sheets dropping lifelessly upon him.

"Not again!" growled Greg. "Get on, boy. Follow me. Ye'll sleep somewhere else."

Connall struggled out of the bed and gladly followed after Greg, not daring to look over his shoulder.

----=[]o[]=----

**Some Time Later, In London**

O... M... R... I... Elizabeth slowly traced the familiar letters on the old brick wall above the wooden headboard of her bed. Some child, long ago had traced his name into the wall. Perhaps then the headboard below it had not been old and cracking, not filling with rot. Perhaps then it had been new and strong. Now, however, like everything else in this hole of a children's home, it was falling apart, and no one cared to replace it.

"Liz! Lizzie!" She sat up at the call of her name, just as a young boy came bursting into the room. "Lizzie, come quick! Fight in the yard!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Jonno's enthusiasm, but raced after him out to the yard. After all, a fight in the yard was bound to be the most exciting thing that happened today.

A small crowd of grotty and indecently skinny children had formed around two boys who were tumbling around in the dirt, fist swinging blindly in an attempt to hit the other. Elizabeth recognised the two; they were older boys, Seth Morton and Matty Cole. They were always fighting over something or other, and their fights were usually half hearted.

Today, however, they were obviously quite angry. Pained yells and angry growls came from the dust as children cheered on the two boys, not really caring who won.

"What happened this time?" Elizabeth yelled over the screaming children to Jonno.

"Dunno! Don' care, neither!" He laughed and watched with unbridled enthusiasm, punching the air and yelling 'Get 'em!' and 'Ooh, nice' on occasion.

Suddenly a terrifying roar filled the air. "Orright, you lot! Inside, NOW!" It was Greg, the main caretaker in the orphanage. The kids scattered at once, Seth and Matty included. No one wanted to be in the way of Greg's short temper. Lizzie and Jonno ran madly back to the building, hiding in a side room and giggling quietly.

A few minutes later when they thought the coast to be clear, they left the room and started down the hallway. Ahead of them, Seth and Matty appeared, still grappling, and Liz exchanged a grin with Jonno. "Fight fight fight!" yelled Jonno.

All of a sudden, Seth pushed Matty against the wall. Unfortunately, in front of the wall was a low table, upon which sat a small vase. The table rattled, and as the four of them watched, the vase fell to the floor, smashing into a hundred pieces.

They ran, all in different directions. Unfortunately for Lizzie, she ran the wrong way, right into Greg. "You, girl! What's the meaning of this nonsense! Smashing vases indeed!" He grabbed her arm angrily and pulled her along. "It's in the cupboard for you. A few hours there'll teach ye to break Margot's things, won' it now?"

"Greg, please, it wasn't me!" She knew it wouldn't work, but she begged him anyway. How she hated Greg's usual punishment, to be locked in that dark cupboard under the stairs, behind that heavy door with the padlock.

"Ye'll do what ye'r told, girl! I'll not have ye mischief! Now get in!" She was sent sprawling when Greg pushed her roughly in to the cramped space, banging her knee quite hard and knowing it would bruise.

Suddenly, shouts erupted from behind Greg, and he spun angrily, towering over Seth and Matty who were now having a stick fight in the hallway. She moved back to the wall of the cupboard while he yelled at them, knowing it would do no good to run.

It was then that she noticed scratchy writing on the wall. She spun to face it, scrawled on the low, slanted ceiling. It was hard to make out in the dim light. "Just.... say...." she squinted, trying to make out the last word. "Lonuh? Lomuh... no..." She stood up on her knees to peer closer. L...u....m... o....s. She raised her eyebrows. What kind of word was that? _Not a word at all. How ridiculous._

At that instant the door slammed and she was engulfed in darkness.

A tear slipped down her face. How she hated Greg, and Margot, and the orphanage, and her whole life really. It was miserable at Saint Patrick's Orphanage, and the only respite she had from it was school and the park, when she could escape to it for a few hours now and then.

She pouted. Why even put a vase like that in the walkway anyway!? It was ridiculous. Anyone with a speck of intelligence could see the hall was too narrow, even if it weren't a house of a hundred wild and orphaned children. And she hated the absolute blackness of the cupboard. It wasn't that she was scared of the dark, not at all in fact. It was simply the fact that she couldn't see anything at all that annoyed her. It angered her. Suddenly she was angry at the nonsensical writing on the ceiling of the cupboard. Absolutely stupid, it was. _Just say lumos. What is that even supposed to mean, _she thought grumpily. "Just say lumos," she muttered in a sarcastic voice, and then louder, "Just say lumos!" She snorted, wiping away a tear. "Lumos, lumos, lumos!" she shouted.

All at once, the small cupboard lighted up, a brilliant light after the impenetrable blackness of before. She squinted, opening her eyes gradually as they grew used to the light. "What on Earth..." she murmured, getting on her knees again.

It was impossible – there was no light bulb in the cupboard, she could see that quite clearly. The door was also clearly still closed, and there were no windows, no gaps, and yet the space was lit quite brightly.

_How is it possibly light in here?_ She shook her head. It was amazing. She had read about some kinds of mould that glowed in the dark, and the damp cupboard was certainly capable of growing mould, but she had never imagined it could shine this brightly. Besides, it had been quite sudden, and mould did not turn on like a light.

She peered around the cupboard. She had never looked at it in detail before. Every other time she had been in here, it had been quite dark, and any other time she had no desire to look. After all, it was just a cupboard. Now however, she realised it was quite an interesting cupboard. The walls were covered in writing and drawings of fantastic things. A dragon breathed fire on one wall, and a great castle with many turrets stood grandly on another. It was a magnificent castle, and Elizabeth thought that whoever had knifed it into the walls must have spent a great deal of time in here indeed, especially if they had done the other pictures, and the writing as well.

Just then, she spotted a glint where the floor met the wall. Frowning curiously, she knelt down close. Something metal was stuck in a crack, and she reached a finger in at one end. "Ouch!" She withdrew her hand quickly, and looked appalled at her finger. Whatever was in there was sharp, and it had cut her, though not deeply. Clicking her tongue, she tried the other end and drew the knife out easily. It was shiny metal, a strange design, and looked brand new, though she had no idea who it could possibly belong to.

Deciding to think about it another time, she took the knife and etched her name in to the wall. It took a while, but really, what else had she to do?

When she was finished that, she turned with interest to the walls. The magnificent pictures were extremely detailed, and held her interest quite well. The dragon, the castle, towering mountains, a giant squid, a skull of some sort. Eventually however, her eyes fell upon some of the words. _They will pay. Hate hate hate. I want to go home. Stupid old man. Stupid twinkling eyes. I'll kill them all._ Her eyes widened at the angry words, and she leaned forward to read more. Just then however, the door opened and she was unceremoniously dragged from the cupboard. As soon as the door had opened, the mysterious light had disappeared.

"Up ye get girl, and go to bed. No dinner for ye tonigh', and let that be a lesson to ye."

Scowling, Elizabeth dashed away to her bedroom, still holding the silver knife. She had use for it yet. Once she got to her room, she shut the door. The lights were off, but light from a street lamp shone through the window. Usually it annoyed her, keeping her from sleep for hours, but tonight she was glad of it. She perched at the head of her bed and put the knife to the wall, to once again spell her name out.

She refused to include her middle name, for it was her mother's middle name, and she hated her mother. She scratched away with the knife until her name was fully visible beneath the first.

_There. Now I, too, will be thought of, even if it is by someone many years in the future. Now someone will care to wonder who I was, _she thought bitterly, though she smiled in satisfaction at the deep etching of her name. It was not as sharp as the name above it, but it was readable.

She read the names over again. _Tom Riddle. Elizabeth Bishop. _She wondered who the boy had been, and if he still was.

----=[]o[]=----

**A Few Months Later**

Elizabeth lay on her bed, idling the day away. It was the summer holidays, and she had nothing to do that she hadn't done a hundred times before. If it wasn't that hot, she would risk Greg's wrath and sneak out to the park for a while. But, it _was_ that hot, and she felt too lazy to bother. Anyway, there was a scheduled outing set for tomorrow, and they would all go as a group, which would be more fun anyway.

Sighing, she rolled over on to her back and stared up at the ceiling.

_How odd,_ she thought. _What on Earth is that owl doing out and about in the daytime? And coming into the room, too!_ Just then, she noticed another odd thing. Tied around the owls leg was a roll of paper. "What's that you've got there, owl? Is that a letter?!" She moved closer, cautious of the owl's beak, but as she got closer, it did not bite her. Rather it stuck out the leg which held the message, and she moved forward eagerly. _How exciting this is! _she thought. _To be getting a letter from an owl is most exciting, even if it is not for me! _ For there was no one who would be sending her a letter, unless perhaps it was a joke on the boys' part, but she knew that none of them could possibly get an owl, let alone get one to hold still long enough to tie a note to its leg and then make it fly to her.

As soon as she had untied the message, the owl hooted (in a friendly sort of way, she thought), and flew off through the open window.

It turned out to be an envelope, sealed with thick red wax which bore some sort of crest. There was no sender address and she shook her head. _Honestly, don't people know how to address an envelope?! Even I do, and I've not sent a letter in my life!_

Elizabeth gasped in surprise when she turned the letter over, for it was addressed to her. Written in emerald green ink and an elegant script was her name, Elizabeth Bishop.

Looking around suspiciously as if expecting someone to jump out and yell that it was a joke, she stuck her finger under the flap and ripped it open. It was reasonably thick, and she wondered excitedly at the contents. Unfolding, she began to read, and her disbelief grew with each word.

Dear student,

It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you of your acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the most illustrious school of magic in all of Europe. Please find enclosed a list of all you will need for the school year, which begins on September 1st, and your train ticket. The Hogwarts express departs from Kings Cross Station, platform nine and three quarters on the specified date. We look forward to welcoming you to Hogwarts and being instrumental in your magical education.

Yours sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Upon finishing the letter, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in scepticism. Uh huh. Magic. It just so happened that Elizabeth was eleven. Far too old to still believe in magic. Plus, she was a very adept student, and was a firm believer in science, and as far as far as she was concerned, magic and science were two mutually exclusive concepts. Having proof that science was factual and real, Elizabeth concluded that magic was not real and this was some kind of joke.

But who was the prankster? Looking for clues, she pulled out another piece of parchment. It read:

Miss Bishop, due to your circumstances, a teacher from the school will, be calling upon you shortly (within the next few days) to answer any questions you may have about the wizarding world and to assist you in collecting your school things.

Regards, Minerva McGonagall.

Elizabeth frowned. This certainly was a complicated prank, and it really didn't seem to have a punch line, at least not that she could see at this point. All in all, she was quite thoroughly annoyed. It was quite obviously a prank, and not a very good one at that. Anyone who knew her must know that she would never believe such nonsense. Honestly! She huffed quietly, and threw the letter and envelope onto the chest of drawers next to her bed. She spent the rest of the day lying on her bed.

----=[]o[]=----

Though she question he circle of friends thoroughly, all of them denied any and all knowledge of the owl and the letter. Jonno, Matty, James and Callum were all quite certain that it had been none of them, and they all agreed that it was a rather silly prank.

This was why, when a visitor called for her not two days later, that Elizabeth was most surprised.

She was eating lunch with her friends when Greg approached their table. "Get up girl, ye've a visita' in the fron' hall. Right posh lady, so don' keep 'er waitin."

Elizabeth shrugged at her friends and stood up, making her way to the front room. Waiting for her was a tall stern woman, her hair pulled back in a bun and thin glassed perched on her nose. All that was fine, but Elizabeth couldn't help but smirk at the woman's attire. She was dressed in long robes, dark blue ones which covered her all the way up to the neck. How she could wear such clothes in the summer Elizabeth had no idea.

"Miss Bishop?" asked the woman, her thin lips curling upwards in a polite smile.

"Yes," she replied, trying her best to appear proper and fearing that she failed appallingly.

"Very good. I am Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School. I trust you received a letter a few days ago?"

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. "What?"

The tall woman sighed. "Of course, these things are all done with a magi-quill, so sometimes a student doesn't get a letter, or perhaps the owl got lost. Well, I shall explain it all to you, if we could go and sit somewhere."

"Wait just a minute! Do you mean to say that it was _you_ who sent that odd letter about magic and this Hogwarts place?"

"Oh, so you did get it. Excellent. Still, I imagine there is much for me to explain. I'm sure it must have been quite a surprise for you to find out that magic is real."

"What utter rubbish!" She stamped her foot and shook her head, glowering up at this ridiculous woman who was trying to convince her that magic was real. Well, Elizabeth was much too smart for that!

"I beg your pardon!" The woman looked highly affronted, and Elizabeth found herself pleased.

"Well it is. It's a ridiculous prank, and if you knew me at all, you'd know I would never believe it."

The woman's lips thinned impossibly, but her voice remained calm. "Well, you certainly are a fiery little thing, aren't you? I suppose I shall have to prove it to you, then."

Elizabeth watched sceptically as the woman put her hand into a deep pocket, and almost laughed when she pulled out a long thin piece of wood.

"I suppose you expect me to believe that is a wand, do you?"

The woman smiled down at her, seemingly amused. "I do indeed, Miss Bishop."

"Well, show me some _magic,_ then."

The woman's smile grew and she gave a flick of the stick. All of a sudden, Elizabeth found herself floating several inches above the floor, and her eyes widened. She twisted and turned in the air, trying to see how the woman could possibly be doing this, but there were no ropes of any sort, and she could feel nothing touching her. She turned her wide eyes on the Professor. "Is this real?" she whispered, quite amazed.

"As real as can be," the woman replied, as Elizabeth floated back to the ground.

"So you're a – a witch?"

Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded. "That I am."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "That was quite a good trick, if that's what it was. I don't easily believe things if I can't see some sort of proof. You might have had that set up somehow."

"Well, perhaps I could show you something else?"

"Alright, but I get to choose. Otherwise, it might just be something you've set up beforehand."

"Very well," replied the witch, smiling indulgently.

Elizabeth hummed and looked around the room, spotting a pot plant that lay beside the door. She pointed. "Turn that into... a cat!"

The witch beamed. "How strange that you should ask me to do that. It is one of my specialties."

With a flick of her wand,

This really impressed Elizabeth, for she had seen the plant transform before her eyes, and that couldn't possibly have been prearranged, could it?

"You're a suspicious child, aren't you? Perhaps Slytherin will be your house, or Ravenclaw, as you do seem clever, too."

"Slytherin and Ravenclaw?"

"Yes, they along with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are the houses of Hogwarts."

And so for the rest of the day, Elizabeth listened as Professor McGonagall told her all about Hogwarts and the Wizarding world. The same day, the witch took her to a place called Diagon Alley, where they bought all the things Elizabeth would need for school. The cost came out of a fund for needy students, and while she may not have as much as the other students, she would have all she needed.

----=[]o[]=----

**Hoggy Warty Hogwarts**

Early in the morning of September 1st found Elizabeth packing to leave for King's Cross. She had said goodbye to her friends the night before, and couldn't wait to see Hogwarts. She opened the old bag she had found to put all her things in and opened her drawer. She only had two drawers of belongings, mostly clothes and a few things she had been left by her mother.

She picked up a necklace which lay at the bottom of the top drawer and fingered the ruby red stone that was set in what looked to be gold. She was surprised it was still in her possession, given the jewellery's obvious value. After all, this was an orphanage, and if Greg or Margot didn't see fit to take anything of value, then one of the other children probably would. Even so, she still had it and so considered herself simply lucky, even if it was the only thing she was lucky for.

She had never worn the necklace, and doubted she ever would, for it had belonged to her mother, and her mother had gone and left her in Saint Patrick's the week Elizabeth had been born. Given that, the necklace had no sentimental value, really, for she was sure her mother must have hated her. Many of the other children at the orphanage were here because their parents had died, though there were a few like her, who were simply unwanted. She knew she was one of these as her mother had been kind enough (and Elizabeth used the word kind quite loosely), to leave a note detailing her reasons for leaving her daughter in the London Orphanage. The letter, which Elizabeth longed to burn, but for some reason had not, explained that her mother could simply not stand to care for a child when her marriage to Elizabeth's father had failed as miserably as her first. Elizabeth's mother it seemed, had been so besotted with Elizabeth's father that when he left, her mother could not bear to care for the reminder of their love.

That was where the sane part of the letter ended and the nonsensical rambling began. Elizabeth had concluded at a young age that her mother must have been quite mad, or at least very strange, for the rest of the letter made no sense to Elizabeth whatsoever. Her mother went on to say that she feared Elizabeth would turn out bad, and had wanted to 'spare her that life' but had been unable to do it out of 'maternal instinct.' Elizabeth always shuddered at the first part and snorted in disbelief at the second part. After that, her mother wrote that in the end, she thought it best to curse Elizabeth, and hope the curse would run its course soon enough. The letter didn't give specifics, but Elizabeth didn't believe it. She might be incredibly unlucky, but she was surely not cursed, not by her crazy mother.

The second and only other thing her mother had left her was a thick book, but strangely enough, Elizabeth had never been able to open it. It had a deep green cover made of some odd, bumpy material, and it was as if the whole book was glued together. The gilded pages could not be opened.

Shaking her head, she pulled out the drawer and emptied its meagre contents into the old bag. The clothes in the second drawer followed, along with the carefully folded black robes that had been bought for her.

Her wand she stowed in the waistband of her pants. It was yew and dragon heartstring, a combination she found most interesting, mostly because of the fact that dragons must actually be real.

Then, before many others had even risen, she was out the door and walking through the streets to King's Cross.

She arrived just in time, and entered the station. Professor McGonagall had told her how to get to the platform, and she had no trouble finding the place to get through to Platform 9 ¾ . As she was approaching it, a boy about her age caught her eye. He looked as scruffy as she was sure she herself did, with his oversized clothing and uncut hair, and she felt a strange likeness to him. She watched as he approached a family of redheads, and then as they all disappeared through the barrier, following shortly after them. She quickly found an empty compartment on the train. Not a minute after she had settled, the scraggly boy she had seen earlier entered the compartment. "Er...sorry, do you mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all."

Two red heads followed behind him and helped him put his trunk up. She tuned out their conversation and watched people bustling about outside the train. When the door closed, she turned and inspected the boy, who sat opposite her. He was small and thin, with unruly black hair and green eyes that were hidden behind black framed glasses. He caught her staring and she looked away.

"I'm Harry."

She looked back and smiled. "Elizabeth. This is my first year. Is it yours too?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "I'm so glad to be going!"

"I know! Did you know, I never even believed in magic until one of the professors came to where I live and showed me some." She giggled. "I didn't even read all of my letter, because I didn't believe it!"

He laughed with her. "Don't worry, I didn't know about magic either. My aunt and uncle knew about it, but they never told me. They don't like it at all, that I'm going to Hogwarts."

"You live with your aunt and uncle?"

He nodded. "My parents are dead."

The boy looked sad for a moment, and Elizabeth felt a stab of sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"That's okay, I don't really remember them."

"Well, I don't remember my parents either, though I'm not sorry they're gone. My father left my mother, and then she dumped me in an orphanage, so I'm all alone too."

Just then, the door opened again and a different red-head appeared. "Mind if I sit here? It's just that everywhere else is full."

Elizabeth and Harry nodded, and introduced themselves to the boy, Ron.

He looked eagerly at Harry. "Is it true then? Do you really have... you know?"

"What?"

"You know... the scar!" whispered Ron, and Elizabeth looked on, confused, as Harry lifted his hair to reveal a thin lightning bolt shaped scar.

"How'd you get that?" she asked.

Ron mouthed soundlessly at her, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Er, well," said Harry, and she turned to him, "Apparently I'm kind of famous. I didn't know about it myself until Hagrid came to give me my letter, but apparently an evil wizard Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, but it didn't work, and I got left with this scar. That's how my parents died, he murdered them."

"That's horrible!"

Ron was dumbfounded that neither of them had ever heard about magic, but he didn't really seem to think badly of them, and talk turned to what house they would be in.

Ron was sure he would be in Gryffindor, but Harry had no idea.

"When Professor McGonagall came to see me, she said I'll probably be in Slytherin, and then she said maybe Ravenclaw," said Elizabeth.

"Ugh!" said Ron. "Let's hope you don't end up in Slytherin. They're all bad."

The rest of the train ride was spent in conversation, interrupted three times; once by the lunch trolley, once by a girl called Hermione, who was helping her friend Neville search for his toad, and once by a boy called Draco Malfoy and two of his friends. The last lot reinforced Ron's opinion the Slytherin's being not very nice.

----=[]o[]=----

When they finally got to Hogwarts, Elizabeth could not take her eyes of its beauty. The boat ride across the lake was breathtaking, with the castle towering over them and the moon rising behind it. She couldn't believe this would be her home for most of the year.

Unfortunately, halfway across the lake, something large overturned their boat. They thrashed about in their long robes, which weighed them down, and they had to be rescued by students in the nearest boats. Elizabeth put it down to her bad luck.

Once they got to the castle, they waited in the Entrance Hall before being bustled in to the Great Hall to be sorted. She was called after only a few names, and sat upon the stool, smiling weakly at Professor McGonagall, who placed the hat on her head. It was far too large, and the brim was nearly on her shoulders.

She was stunned when the hat began to talk to her.

_Interesting, very interesting indeed. A cunning mind, I see. Perhaps Slytherin is for you._

_No! Not Slytherin! I'm muggleborn! I won't fit in there!_

_Muggleborn, you say? I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you, young one. _

_What?!_

_Oh yes, you have your father's intellect! If not Slytherin, then you must be RAVENCLAW!_

The last word was called aloud, and she pulled the hat off, handing it to Professor McGonagall. She walked on shaky legs to the Ravenclaw table amidst polite applause.

----=[]o[]=----

That night as she lay in bed, Elizabeth thought deeply. That hat had said she wasn't muggleborn! Did that mean one of her parents had been magical? It had said she had her father's intellect. Had he been a student here? Or had he just seen it in her mind? _But that can't be right, _she thought. _I've never known my father, to know if he was smart or not._

And what of her mother? All that nonsense rambling about curses. Shat sat bolt upright. What if she really was cursed?! What if that was why she always had so many accidents!

Breathing shakily, she laid back down and tried to sleep, determined to read her mother's letter again in the morning.

----=[]o[]=----

She did as she had said she would, and read the letter. It left her feeling quite scared, now that she believed in magic. She would have to ask someone, perhaps Professor McGonagall.

She did so after a lesson, waiting behind after transfiguration with a boy in her year, Terry. She asked if there were curses that could cause someone bad luck all their lives. McGonagall said there was, but didn't ask why she wanted to know.

Terry however, was curious. "What do you want to know about curses like that for? You aren't thinking of cursing someone, are you, because of you are then you should know that those sorts of curses are usually dark magic, and illegal."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm not going to curse anyone. I was just wondering, that's all."

All of a sudden, the old bag she had found at the orphanage slit open, spilling her books everywhere. Her ink bottle rolled out on top, and for a split second she thanked her lucky stars that it hadn't shattered.

She had thought too soon however, when she realised the bottle had not stopped rolling. It fell off the pile of books and started rolling down the stairs, shattering on the fourth one down and leaving a pool of black ink that dribbled to the stair below.

Elizabeth sighed in frustration. Terry raised an inquisitive eyebrow and said jokingly, "Are you sure _you_ aren't cursed with bad luck?"

She feigned a laugh and punched him playfully. "Don't be silly! Now help me pick all this up."

Luckily for Elizabeth, Terry came from a magical family and already knew several useful household spells. He fixed her bag with a quick 'reparo', and she stuffed her books back into it, and they set off for Charms.

Charms was turning out to be one of Elizabeth's favourite subjects, mostly because she found it the easiest, and so there was no pressure. Professor Flitwick was her head of house, and he was especially friendly to students of his house.

"Today we will be learning a charm which produces light. Accomplished witches and wizards can control where the light goes, but at your level, the light will appear at the ends of your wands," squeaked the tiny man.

Everyone was standing in their own space, and all the desks had been cleared off to the sides of the room.

Elizabeth took out her wand, sharing a look of anticipation with Terry.

Flitwick's squeaky voice sounded from the front of the room. "This is a relatively simple spell; the wand movement is simply to hold your wands out in front of you, keeping a firm grip... go on then..."

He waited a few moments until everyone had done it, peering at them all to make sure they had done it right. "Excellent, now – the incantation is... lumos!"

Elizabeth gasped with the rest of the class as Flitwick's own wand ignited with a brightly glowing light, though for a different reason to the rest of the students.

_Just say lumos..._

The words flitted through her mind like a whisper.

"Liz... Liz?.... E-Liz-A-Beth???"

She shook her head distractedly, glancing over at Terry. "Huh?"

"Well!? Arent' you going to try it yourself? Come on!"

"Oh, right... yeah." She positioned her wand in front of her, and spoke the incantation. "Lumos."

It was no more than a murmur, but a brilliant ball of light erupted at the end of her wand instantly.

"Oh! See here, everyone. Miss Bishop has done it! Wonderful, wonderful!" Everyone clapped politely after Flitwick's exultation, and Elizabeth blushed.

After that, she sat to the side, with the pretence of watching Terry practice. What she really wanted to do however, was think. What had happened in the cupboard at the orphanage had been magic after all, a spell! She was excited at the thought that there had been a magic person at the orphanage before her, and she wondered if they had been to Hogwarts as well.

----=[]o[]=----

The year progressed, and as it did she found herself settling in to life at Hogwarts easily. She did well in her classes, as did her dorm mates. After all, Ravenclaws were known for their intelligence. She made good friends with them, particularly Terry. She found he reminded her of Jonno, with his quick wit and sense of humour. She also had friends in Hufflepuff, and in Gryffindor. Hermione Granger was just as smart as any of the Ravenclaws, and Elizabeth found they got on well.

When Hermione became friends with Ron and Harry, Elizabeth re-established the friendship that had started on the train. She found Ron a bit obtuse, but he had a good sense of humour. Harry she got on very well with, and she thought this was mostly because they had similar upbringings. They would meet regularly in the library or at the lake. As much as Elizabeth loved Hogwarts, she missed her friends, thought not the orphanage. She wrote to them regularly, using school owls. They thought it strange at first, but they soon got used to it.

There was however, one reason that she wanted to get back to the orphanage. She wanted to find her birth certificate. She knew it must be buried in the basement with all the other records, which went back to the very opening of the orphanage. Since the hat had told her about her father, she was desperate to discover more about him. She had never really cared to find out his name before, but now she had a reason to, and she could not wait.

She knew her mother's full married name, but not her maiden name, and she had searched through old school records in the hope that she would find the first two names, but in the past sixty years there was no one with the same names.

----=[]o[]=----

The end of the year brought much excitement. She went to see Harry Ron and Hermione in the hospital wing. They had been involved in something, and while they weren't allowed to talk about it, Harry had told her that the rumours were mostly true, throwing in a few extra hints here and there when Ron and Hermione weren't listening.

From what she had heard and what Harry told her, she gathered that something called a Philosopher's Stone had been hidden in the castle, and that Voldemort had returned, and been trying to steal it. She shuddered to think of someone as evil as the whispered stories she had heard about him; she simply could not comprehend it.

----=[]o[]=----

**Orphanage Again**

At the end of June, she said goodbye to her new friends at King's Cross and walked back to the orphanage. By the time she got back, night had fallen and it was quiet in the orphanage, but she was not tired. Leaning her bag unpacked on her bed, she made her way quietly down to the basement.

She pushed open the door, and stared in dismay at the towers of dusty boxes. Somewhere in there was the secret of her parent's identities, and she was going to find them.

...

In the end, it didn't take her as long as she thought. The files were ordered by year, and the most recent were in the boxes closest to the door. Once she realised this, it only took her ten minutes to find the correct box, and then another few to find her own file.

She nervously blew dust off the ratty piece of paper that was her birth certificate. There, right below her birth date, was her father's name. Thom Bishop.

Unfortunately, her mother's maiden name was not there, though Elizabeth really didn't care too much that she didn't know. At least now, when she got back to school, she would have a name to search the records for, and she could find out if she was in fact the daughter of a wizard.

----=[]o[]=----

The next morning, Elizabeth woke late and dressed before making her way to the food hall for lunch. As she approached the stairs, she heard Greg's angry voice. She rounded the corner to see Greg storming off and young Petey walking back towards her, his bottom lip stuck out.

"Hey little man, what's the matter?"

Petey looked up tearfully at her. "Greg'ry lockded me in de cubbad," he said sulkily. Elizabeth glared in the direction Greg had gone. "Don't worry sweetie. You're out now. Just try not to get on his bad side in the future, hey?"

"Mm," grumbled the boy.

Elizabeth sighed, and then had an idea. She pulled open the door to the cupboard and stuck her head in, looking for the words. "Come here Petey."

The little boy stuck his head in under hers and looked around. "Hey! Drawings! I neva sawed them bafore!"

"Yeah, and look here." She pointed to the carving she wanted him to read. Petey scrunched up face, trying to read the words. "Just... say... l-lum...lumos?"

"Yup, that's it – lumos."

"'Snot a word. Wot's it mean?"

"Well, why don't we see. You go in the cupboard, and then you have to say the word. Try to think really hard about trying to see all those pretty pictures on the wall when you say it."

Petey looked doubtfully in to the dim space. "Go back in there?"

"Don't worry honey. I'll just close the door, but we won't lock it, okay?"

He gave her a curious look before crawling all the way in to the cupboard and pulling the door closed behind him. As she waited, a thought struck her. What if it didn't work for Petey? What if it only worked if you were magic!?

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Petey threw himself into her lap. "Lizbef! 'S like magic!"

She grinned at him "Yeah, it is, hey?"

"Magic is real?" The little boy looked awed. "Can I do magic?!" He was excited now, looking up at her expectantly.

She smoothed his hair down. "No honey. It's just the cupboard that's magic. Maybe magic is just something there to help you when you need it."

"Oh." But he didn't look too disappointed, and he ran off to play with his friends, now sporting a smile.

For the hundredth time, Elizabeth wondered who had done the magical drawings. Who was the wizard who had spent so much time in the cupboard?

----=[]O[]=----

Well, this is the first part of my new story. For those reading my other story The Pendant of Slytherin – Don't Worry! I'll still be writing that one at the same time. If you haven't read it, I reckon you should. I've got most of this story planned out. It won't be anywhere near as long as PoS, maybe 15 chapters long.

If anyone was wondering, the title of this chapter comes from a song of the same name by The Lovin' Spoonful.

Reviews would be great. Let me know if you want me to continue this story, or if you have any questions, comments or constructive criticism. : )

----=[]o[]=----

REVIEW!


	2. A Cursed Girl for A Cursed Room

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling

**2 Cursed Girl For A Cursed Room**

**Finding A Father**

**Learning To Fly**

Elizabeth was immensely excited about returning to Hogwarts for her second year. As glad as she was to see her friends and as sad as she was to be leaving them, she couldn't wait to be free of the oppression of the orphanage.

She was currently packing her meagre possessions, and had just pulled out the heavy leather-bound book her mother had left her.

She thumped the heavy book down on the bed. It was too bulky to take with her, especially with all the other books she had. Even if that wasn't the case, there was no point in her lugging it around. After all, what use was a book you couldn't even open?

Despite the fact that she didn't want to take it, she wasn't sure she wanted to leave it, either. She was sure if she did, she would never see it again. Children in the orphanage had sticky fingers, as did Greg and Margot.

She paced back and forth across the room, contemplating where she could hide the book, but nowhere sprung to mind. She thought briefly of the basement where the records were kept. From the state of the place when she had gone to find her birth certificate (now packed safely in her bag), she was sure no one but she and Greg and Margot had been down there in years. However, the place was damp, and she didn't want the book to deteriorate. Secondly, Greg smoked, and if he happened to drop a light in there, the place would probably go up in flames, what with all that paper.

And so she paced, back and forth between her bed and the wall. _I need somewhere to hide the book. _She turned. _Somewhere no one can find it. _She spun on her heel. _Somewhere safe. _

Click.

She frowned and turned to face the wall, her head cocked to the side. _Huh._ A door had popped open in the wall, a square door just above her head height. It had no handle, and she had never known it to be there before _and_, if truth be told, she had spent a _lot_ of time staring at that wall.

She walked over and opened it fully, peering in to the dark space. Dust floated out, illuminated by the afternoon light that shone in through the window. Waving her hand to blow it away, she stood on tip toe to see better. _Still too high._

Huffing, Elizabeth walked over to her set of draws and dragged them over to the wall. Standing on top of the two drawers put her eyelevel just above the cupboard, and bending her knees allowed her to see easily in. At first, she thought the cupboard was bare, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw a small brown notebook.

Elizabeth pulled the book out and blew off a layer of dust before gingerly opening it. To her surprise, it appeared in good condition, probably only a few years old.

What appeared to be notes were written in a sharp cursive script across the pages of the book, and though she didn't specifically recognise it, many of the words appeared to be magic.

After several minutes of perusing the book, she put it aside and went in search of Connall.

Connall was about fifteen years older than her. He had grown up in the orphanage, and now came by on weekends to volunteer.

She found him helping Margot to make sandwiches for lunch. "Oi, Connall. I need to ask you something."

"Hey, Lizzie. What do you need?"

"I was wondering if you knew who was in my room before me? Room seven."

Connall slapped two pieces of bread with cheese together and added it to the pile before brushing his hands off and leaning against the cupboard.

"Now what makes you think I'd remember something like that?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I just wondered. I found something in my room that looks like it belonged to the person before me. You really don't remember who was there when you were here?"

Connall smiled. "Actually, I do. The only reason I do remember is because it was no one."

Elizabeth frowned. "No one?"

"Yeah, I guess now that you're in there and everyone my age has left, there's no one to tell the stories anymore."

"What stories?"

Connall smiled and dropped his voice conspiratorially. "The stories about the haunted room."

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Haunted?"

"Oh yeah. They say-"

"Get ye'self ta work, Connall!" called Margot.

"Sorry Margot," called Connall back, a little sarcastically, and she scowled at him.

Connall chuckled. "Sorry Lizzie, you heard what the witch said. I'll talk to you at lunch, alright?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Alright, see you soon."

Moving out to the dining hall, she took a seat at one of the long benches and waited impatiently, tapping her fingers on the scrubbed wood. Finally after what seemed like ages, Connall and Margot came out with the platters of sandwiches, placing them at the end of each table.

While Margot went to call the other kids to lunch, Connall piled some sandwiches onto two plates and came and sat down next to her.

"Here you go, young Lizzie. Eat up."

"Thanks. So, tell me about these stories."

Connall chuckled. "Well, the story goes that room number seven is, or was haunted. Haunted or cursed, no one's really sure."

"Why do people say that?"

Connall took a bite of his sandwich. "I'll never forget the night I came here. It was late; everyone was already in bed. Greg met me at the front entrance when I was dropped off by child services. Anyway, he took me straight to my new room, number seven."

"What, you lived there?"

"Listen, listen. Not for long, I didn't. I've never been so scared in my life, as I was when I came out of that room. Greg put me in there, and I fell asleep. About an hour later, I woke up, and there were the weirdest freaky things going on."

Connall lowered his voice and leaned close as kids began milling about around them.

"It was like my sheets were trying to strangle me or something. The window was rattling, and there was a terrible moaning wind, but it wasn't coming from anywhere, it just _was_. And it was like Greg was expecting it or something, because as soon as I started screaming for help he was back in a flash. He opened the door, and it all stopped. Everything was dead silent, and he took me to another room. I never stepped foot in room 7 again."

Finished with his story, Connall sat back.

"Well nothing like that has ever happened to me," said Elizabeth. "It sounds very..."

"Outlandish? Completely and utterly crazy? Believe me, I know. But the thing is, I got talking to the other kids the next day, and apparently, no one has _ever_ been in that room for more than two days. Greg put all the new kids in there, hoping the room wouldn't try to get rid of them, and no one has, until _you_."

"But there must have been. Some kid before me wrote his name on the bed head, and someone left a book in there, hidden."

Connall shrugged. "Must have been a long time ago. When I got here, they told me no one had been in that room in something like thirty years."

Elizabeth ate her lunch slowly, contemplating what Connall had told her, and wondering what made her so special that the cursed room wouldn't throw her out. Again, she thought uneasily of her mother's letter, the claim that _she _was cursed. Did the room feel she was a kindred spirit or something, because they were _both_ cursed?

She shivered. A cursed girl, for a cursed room.

----=[]o[]=----

When she returned to her room, she took the leather bound book and stowed it away in the secret cupboard, closing the door with a light snap. The wall appeared completely smooth, with no sign whatsoever that there was a door there.

**Home Again**

Elizabeth relished being back at Hogwarts. She hadn't realised until she saw the castle from the carriages (drawn by what she assumed were invisible horses) that she no longer considered the orphanage her home. For a while now, the title of Home had belonged to the magnificent castle.

She chatted happily to Padma and Terry as they neared the castle, the moon high in the sky. Their carriage ground to a halt, and they, along with the other occupants of the carriage got out.

All of a sudden, there was a disturbance behind them and a terrible force landed on her foot.

"Aiiiaaaggh! Ow ow ow!" She realised one fo the horses had stepped on her foot.

The pressure on her foot was removed and the pain lessened, but her foot still throbbed painfully.

"Are you alright!" asked Padma, coming over to help her and looking in concern at her foot.

"I think maybe it's broken," choked Elizabeth, tears coming to her eyes.

"Jeez Liz, you have the worst luck!" Terry came to her other side, and together he and Padma helped her up to the hospital wing.

She missed the Sorting Ceremony and the Feast, having to make do with an aching foot and food sent up from the kitchens. Terry and a few other Ravenclaw friends dropped by to see her before they went to the common room, relaying his sympathy at her being stuck in the infirmary on their first night back at Hogwarts.

----=[]o[]=----

After the rush of being at school again had died down and as soon as she had a free moment, Elizabeth made her way to the room where the school kept the records.

Big old cabinets held years and years of names, and Elizabeth wasn't quite sure what she would find. Mostly, she just wanted to verify whether or not her father had been a student here. She hoped that if he _was_ in fact a wizard that he had come here. If he had gone to another wizarding school, she wouldn't know where to start looking for information.

As it was, she had no idea how old her father was, to know when he had been at school. He could have been as young as seventeen or as old as sixty when she was born, and she had a feeling she was going to be in here a while. Past curfew, probably. She just hoped she didn't get caught by Filch.

Resigning herself to a long search, she pulled open a cabinet labelled _1940._ To begin with, she was assuming her father had been somewhere between the ages of 17 and 40 when she had been born, so she was assuming he had come to Hogwarts in 1940 at the earliest and 1963 at the latest.

To her great relief, the names of students were listed in alphabetical order. "That should speed things up just a bit," she muttered to herself, and began to finger through the slips of parchment.

Out of curiosity, she pulled out a random piece. It read:

_Iris Malloy_

_Date of birth: 29__th__ January 1929_

_Parents: Anna Malloy nee Potsbar, Kenneth Malloy_

_Address: 7 Holbrook Place, Garrick's Gate_

Attached to the data sheet was paperwork confirming Iris' place at Hogwarts, with signatures from both parent and who was apparently the headmaster at the time.

Putting it back in its place, she flicked through until she came to the B's, right near the bottom of the pile. "Couldn't possibly have been at the _top_, could they?" she grumbled.

"Alright... Barker... Bextor... Binns...Bolly...hmm." She decided to flick through the rest of the B's, just n case some were out of order.

"Boosh... Boomcat... Buzzacot. On to 1941, then."

She pushed the drawer back in and pulled out the next one, leafing through until she came to the B's.

"Barker... Bedwell... Bell...Cardi- not many in that year then," she murmured.

1942 did not provide the name she was looking for either. "Ball... a_nother Barker_... Barkley... Bega... Bennet... Bixby... Bosun... Buckland." Elizabeth sighed, already becoming frustrated. The dust from the records had lain thick and undisturbed, until she had ruffled the pages, and it was now irritating her eyes and making her sneeze.

ooo

Half an hour, she had made it through to 1950, with no luck. Her heart had started racing several times when she had seen the name Bishop, but they had been Cory and Helen and Ralph and then two twins, Madigliana and Morag.

Hefting the 1951 pile into her lap, she filed through to the B's again. "Bailey... Baxter... Belton... Bishop!" She yanked the parchment out, excitement coursing through her veins as she scanned the ageing parchment for a first name.

"Yes!" she hissed when she saw the name Thom. "Finally!"

She read the details on the forms.

_Thomas Bishop_

_Date of birth: 18__th__ December 1940_

_Parents: Bella Bishop nee Patterson, Darius Bishop_

_Address: 24 Colton Road, Morton Park._

Elizabeth read it several times, and then started to put the rest of the stack back when something occurred to her. She had come across nearly a dozen Bishops before she found Thom Bishop. There could have been a hundred Bishops in attendance at the school over the course of its history, and it not inconceivable that there was more than one Thom Bishops.

Debating whether she should continue looking, she finally decided that if she was here already, she may as well make sure she did the job thoroughly.

ooo

Nearly an hour later, Elizabeth had finished with the years 1940 through 1963, and found three more possible candidates.

_Tom Bishop_

_Date of birth: 29__th__ June 1945_

_Parents: Caroline Kelso, Bob Bishop_

_Address: 8 Gosford Avenue, London_

_Thom Rory Bishop_

_Date of birth: 3__rd__ January 1949_

_Parents: Persephone Bishop nee Eccleson, Rory Bishop._

_Address: 42a Newham Court, Surrey._

_Thom Cillian Bishop_

_Date of birth: 29__th__ August 1951_

_Parents: Madeline Bishop nee Monterdean, Matthew Bishop_

_Address: Bishop Manor, Castlet Lane, Bannock's Break._

The last name she added to the list, even though it was not spelt the same. After all, she really didn't know if the information on her birth certificate was entirely correct. She had a feeling that her father was one of these students, though she had no idea how to proceed now that she had several possibilities.

Elizabeth sat back amidst the dusty cabinets, chewing her lip. There _had_ to be _some_ way she could find out more about her father.

----=[]o[]=----

A few weeks later, Liz was walking through the Entrance Hall on her way to breakfast when she was accosted by Harry.

"Hey Liz, are you going to the match tomorrow?" It was the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

"Course I am, don't think I'm cheering for _you_, though," she teased.

Harry gave a fake pout. "I understand. House loyalty before friends."

"I will say good luck though."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Liz. Seeya later." Harry turned and walked to the Gryffindor table and Liz made her way over to the Ravenclaw one.

"He wasn't asking for hints about our tactics, was he?" asked Terry suspiciously. He was a diehard Quidditch fan, and even though he wasn't on the team, he wanted nothing more than for Ravenclaw to win the cup.

Liz rolled her eyes at his question. "No, he was not. Though if he was, do you really think I'd say anything?"

Terry shrugged. "I suppose not. I think we've got a real chance this year. Best team in years."

ooo

The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was a close one, but in the end it went to Gryffindor.

In the hustle and bustle of people making their way down to the field or towards the exits, Elizabeth was given a sharp knock. She tried to keep her balance, teetering on the edge of a stair, but she failed and fell sideways down the stairs. She heard shouts and saw hands reaching out to grab her, but as if in slow motion, they closed on empty air and she fell hard down the stairs. On the top stair, she heard a sharp crack and felt a shooting pain rip through her arm.

She had little time to register it before she was tumbling further. She reached out blindly in an attempt to halt her descent down the stands, but there was nothing for her to get a firm grip on.

After rolling down the stairs, the corners jabbing into her body, she finally came to a rest and her last thought before she lost consciousness was that she had at least landed on something soft.

ooo

When she woke, it was to find herself in the hospital wing. Her entire body was aching dully and her arm was wrapped in a bandage.

No sooner had she opened her eyes, then Madam Pomfrey bustled over holding a measuring spoon and a glass bottle of some gluggy potion. She poured out a measure of the thick brownish substance and held the spoon towards Elizabeth. "Drink this, dear, and you'll be feeling much better. It's a simple pain relief potion."

Elizabeth did so, and all at once the pain was numbed slightly. She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, dear. You took quite a nasty tumble down those stairs, I can tell you! A few broken bones, but they'll be fully healed by dinner tonight, and your bruises should fade quickly with the cream I'll give you."

Liz groaned as she shifted her position. "How long have I been in here?"

"Just since yesterday. You've had a few visitors come and go."

"Oh?"

"Yes, they'll be in class right now, but I'm sure they'll be quite glad to see you up and about."

Madam Pomfrey bustled away and Elizabeth settled down.

ooo

"So, what's the damage?"

Liz turned her head to see Terry leaning casually against the door.

"Broken arm, one broken rib, one fractured shin bone and lots of bruises."

Terry looked over his shoulder towards the Matron's office and then walked over and sat in the seat beside her bed.

"I've never known anyone with luck as bad as you; you're always in the wars!"

"Ugh, I know! For once some good luck would be nice."

"So when will you be out of here?"

"Tomorrow morning, if all goes well. Although Madam Pomfrey told me I'll still have to take it easy."

----=[]o[]=----

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey released her as promised and Elizabeth made her way towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

She was walking down a lonely corridor when she heard something. She looked around, but didn't see anyone. She continued walking but looked over her shoulder; she was _sure_ she could hear whispering. She paused and strained to listen, but the words were unintelligible. She shivered; there was something slightly _off_ about the sounds, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps _malicious_ was the right word to use.

She gave herself a mental slap; it was probably just two girls gossiping.

A few minutes later, she was seated at the Ravenclaw table chatting happily with Padma and Lisa.

"Any luck with your research?" asked Padma. Elizabeth had confided in her friends about her quest to find out about her father after she had gathered the four information sheets, though she had done nothing in the weeks since then.

"No, not really. I'm still trying to think of ways I can find out more information about these four, try to narrow the list down a bit, you know?"

"Mmm... we've been thinking too, actually," said Padma.

"Yes, to start with, it might be a good idea to have a look at the old year books in the library. You know what years these guys would have graduated in, so you'll be able to see what they look like, at least."

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good idea, actually. I think I'll go after dinner. Right now I've got homework to catch up on."

"We'll help, you'll get it done quicker."

"Thanks. Oh, I was wondering; do wizards have some kind of address book or something? You know, like a muggle telephone book?"

"Telephone?" repeated Lisa quizzically.

"Kind of like calling someone through the floo," explained Padma. "Except you can't see the other person."

"Oh! Well, yes, there is. I think there's some at the Ministry or you can go to local shops like the ones in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. Usually certain businesses, like the Owlery Post have them."

ooo

That night when she finished dinner, she picked up her bag and said goodbye to Padma and Lisa. She was turning to leave the Hall when Terry popped up beside her. "Jeez Terry, give me some warning next time! You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "Ready for Charms Club?"

Elizabeth groaned. "Terrryyy."

Terry's face dropped. "You forgot."

Yes, she had forgotten that she'd said she would join the charms club with him. "Why do you want to join the charms club anyway? What happened to Gobstones?"

Terry shrugged. "I got bored of it."

"Well I can relate to _that_," she replied wryly. "Fine, I'll come with you, but I have to go to the library after that."

Terry grinned brightly and pulled her out of the Hall.

Though she waited impatiently for the hour long meeting to end, she found she actually quite enjoyed the Charms Club. As soon as it ended though, she was out of there and heading to the library.

"Hey, what's the rush Liz?" Elizabeth spun to see Terry running to catch up. "You ditched me!"

"Sorry," she said, not really feeling too sorry at all. "I just have something I really need to do in the library."

"Ah, well I'll keep you company then."

"If you must," she muttered.

ooo

The library was all but empty; she could see a lone student in the stacks, and thought it might be Hermione. The girl was in the library more often than any Ravenclaw student.

They headed towards the section where old yearbooks were kept. "What is it we're doing here exactly?"

Elizabeth pulled out the four sets of parchment and handed them to him. "Searching yearbooks for these four boys. One of them is my father, I'm hoping. I just have to find out which one."

"Ah yes, I'd forgotten you were trying to find your father."

Elizabeth seated herself on the floor next to the stacks that held yearbooks and pulled out the appropriate years. "You can look in these two," she said, handing Terry two of them, along with the corresponding sheets of parchment. "And I'll deal with these two."

She opened the first one, leafing through the book until she came to a photo of the graduating class. Even after over a year at Hogwarts, she still couldn't get over the moving pictures; they fascinated her.

The names were listed under the photo and she ran her finger along the page until she came to the name Thom Bishop. "Fourth from the left... top row," she murmured, and then counted along the people in the photo. There he was.

"Well, we can rule out Tom Bishop of Gosford Avenue, London," stated Elizabeth matter-of-factly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She held out the yearbook, pointing out Tom in the class photo. "Most definitely _not_ my father." This Tom Bishop was a handsome young man, but his skin was black as night and Elizabeth's was pale as moonlight.

"I have to agree with you there, you can scratch his name off the list."

Slightly disappointed, she picked up the second yearbook. "Have you found whoever you're looking for.

"Mmmm.... yup!" He held out the book to her. "This is Thom Cillian Bishop from Bannock's Break. Could be your dad."

Elizabeth peered curiously at the black and white photo. Thom Cillian Bishop was of average height, with light coloured hair and a toned complexion. He looked athletic, and had an impish grin. After a few minutes inspecting his face, she put the book aside, leaving it open at the page.

By this time, Terry was finished with his second book and was now flicking through her second one. She grabbed the one he had finished with and looked at the page he had left it on. This class photo included Tom Bishop, the one from Newham Court in London. He was on the short side, again with light coloured hair. Unlike the previous candidate, his skin was quite pale like hers.

"I really wish these photos were in colour, so I could see the colour of their eyes."

"Mm, that would be handy. They do them in colour nowadays. Here's your last guy."

Thomas Bishop from Morton Park was a striking boy, with thick blonde hair down to his shoulders and a refined air about him. He had an aristocratic expression, and if Elizabeth was honest, she thought he looked a bit prissy.

Terry arranged the books in a square. "Oh, well we said we were getting rid of him, didn't we." He tossed aside the one containing pictures of the black skinned Thom Bishop.

"Well let's see. You have pale skin, dark hair, really dark brown eyes, snobby expressi-"

"Excuse me?!"

Terry chuckled. "What? You kind of do, you know. You look really... refined, I suppose. Just the way you hold yourself. If I didn't know you, I'd say you were born and bred wealthy pureblood."

"I don't know whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

Terry shrugged. "It wasn't an insult, so I suppose you should take it as a compliment. You're one of those people who always looks unruffled, you keep your emotions really well hidden, whether you're happy or annoyed, it's hard to tell."

Terry indicated the books. "This last guy, he's like that, definitely from a wealthy family who bought him up with that pureblood etiquette. Or maybe it's just a trait, like you have?"

"Mm. The first guy doesn't really look like me much."

"I don't know, you have that sneaky kind of smile, like you know something no one else does, like you're planning mischief. He isn't as tall as the third guy, either, and you _are_ quite short."

"I'm only twelve, though."

"That's true, you might still grow. This second guy is really short, and it's a bit hard to tell, but I think his eyes are quite dark."

Elizabeth leaned closer, squinting at the page. "Yeeaahh, maybe. All these guys have blonde hair, though. Mine's always been really dark."

Terry looked at his watch. "We should go, it's nearly nine. Here, I'll make copies of these pages." Terry brandished his wand and muttered some kind of duplicating charm they hadn't learned in class.

"Where did you learn that?"

Terry smiled. "Benefits of coming from a wizarding family, you learn most simple charms before you go to school."

"You're so lucky," said Elizabeth, meaning more than knowing about the charms.

Terry patted her shoulder. "Hey, don't be sad."

She pasted a smile onto her face. "I'm not. Let's go then."

"At least you've narrowed the list down a bit," said Terry as they made their way back to the Tower.

"I suppose. It's just that none of these boys really look anything like me. What if none of them is my father?"

Terry put his arm around her in a comforting hug as they walked along. "Don't worry so, Lizzie. Those photos are quite small; it's quite difficult to tell if you look like them. Or, maybe you get your looks from your mother."

"I hope not."

"You really don't like your mother, do you?" asked Terry, correctly reading the tone of her voice.

"I never knew her to like her, but I suppose that's exactly the reason I don't. I mean, how can you like someone who dumped you in an orphanage?"

Terry sighed. "You need to have some _fun_ and cheer yourself up."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I'm going to take you flying."

----=[]o[]=----

"Take me flying again, Terry!" begged Elizabeth, tugging him out of the chair where he was trying to write up his transfiguration essay.

"Lizzieeee," he groaned. "That'll be the third time this week, and it's only Tuesday!"

"You can't blame me! You're the one who wanted to take me flying."

"That was _weeks_ ago. The thrill should've worn off by now."

"Well it hasn't, now get up!" She gave a final tug and Terry toppled to the ground.

"You weren't this excited when we had flying lessons in first year."

"That's because those brooms were really slow; yours is heaps more fun. Plus I fell off my broom and sprained my ankle on the first flying lesson, and they didn't really hold much of an appeal after that."

"Go and ask Ryan. He'll take you."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and spun, walking over to where Terry's younger brother Ryan was sitting with friends. The first year looked up as she approached.

"Hey Ryan."

"Hey Lizzie, what's up?"

"Can you come flying with me? You brother won't come out with me."

The first year considered for a second and then jumped up brightly. "Okay! I'll get mine and Terry's brooms. Wait here."

Liz looked back at Terry, who had pulled himself back up on to the lounge.

"See, Terry. You're brother is nice!"

His only response was a roll of the eyes.

----=[]o[]=----

"I can't wait until the Christmas Feast, and seeing all the decorations. I went home last year, and I didn't get to see the fairies. There were fairies, weren't there, or was Anthony lying?" asked Padma, excited about the upcoming holiday.

"There were fairies. They sat in the branches of the Christmas trees," answered Lisa.

"What about you, Liz? Looking forward to Christmas?"

"Actually, I'm thinking about going back to the orphanage for Christmas," she replied.

"Why would you want to do that? I thought you _hated_ it there," said Lisa.

"I do, but I want to see if I can track down one of the Bishop families and talk to them."

"You're actually going to do that?" asked Padma, sounding surprised.

"Of course I am! How am I supposed to find my father without doing a bit of leg work? I don't think he's going to come to me," she said impatiently.

"Alright, don't get snarky," said Padma placatingly. "We wish you good luck."

Elizabeth snorted.

ooo

That night, just as she was falling asleep, Elizabeth sat bolt upright in bed. "Oh my gosh!"

"Wuhuuuh?" came the sleepy reply from one of the other girls' beds.

Elizabeth ignored her, her mind ticking over. Throwing off her blankets, she scrambled to her bag and pulled out the three sheets of parchment that detailed the three people who could be her father.

"So _stupid_!" she muttered to herself. "Can't _believe_ I didn't think to check!"

She cast lumos with her wand and examined the picture of one of the boys closely. The Sorting Hat had said she had her father's intellect, and so she should be in Ravenclaw.

Thom Bishop of Newham Court was indeed a Ravenclaw, judging by his badge, as was Thom Cillian Bishop from Bannock's Break.

When she inspected the class photo of the last boy however, she happily found his badge to be of a tiny roaring lion. A Gryffindor.

Thomas Bishop of Morton Park was out, if what the Sorting Hat said was true.

To be safe, she tucked it back in to her trunk, just in case he hadn't been in Ravenclaw. After all, Hermione Granger was smarter than most of the Ravenclaw students she knew, and yet was in Gryffindor.

----=[]o[]=----

As planned, Elizabeth went back to the orphanage for Christmas. It was the last place she wanted to be, but if she was going to visit the Bishops, she couldn't stay at Hogwarts.

As she had no money, she wasn't exactly sure how she was going to get around, and was hoping that at least one of them lived in London. Even if they didn't, none of that would even be a problem if she couldn't locate them first.

On her first morning back, she hefted the telephone book out of the cupboard under the phone and thumped it down on the cupboard.

She didn't think she would find Thom Cillian Bishop in the muggle phone book, given that he was from a traditional wizarding family, but she was hoping to find the one from Newham Court.

She knew she was being optimistic in thinking it would be as simple as looking in the phone book. This Thom would be grown up now, and most likely moved away from his childhood home. She was hoping his parents still lived there, and could give her the address.

She had contemplated simply ringing up, but decided that this was really something that should be done face to face.

Leafing through until she came to the B section, she ran her finger over the pages, turning until she found the list of Bishops. There were _so_ many!

Luckily, first names were also listed, and she quickly found the entry she was looking for.

**Bishop** Rory & Persephone

It wasn't the address in Newham Court, but Persephone was a fairly uncommon name and she thought this was probably them.

Thanking Merlin that they were listed, Elizabeth copied down the address and folded the piece of paper, sticking it in her pocket.

----=[]o[]=----

The trip to Cobalt Court was easier than she had anticipated. It was a retirement village, and was quite close to the orphanage. Again, luck was on her side, because she had no money for a bus. Being as close as it was, she could simply walk there, even if it did take a while.

The cottages were aging forties style things, but they had been kept up well. The walk leading from the road was lined with flowers, and each apartment had its own small garden out the front. Each one faced into an ovular courtyard, in the middle of which was a small fountain filled with lilies.

All in all, there were about twenty apartments in the complex.

She made her way to number six, feeling increasingly nervous. She straightened her clothes and ran a hand through her hair before knocking on the front door. She half hoped there was nobody home, but she could already see a blurry figure coming through the mottled glass.

The woman who answered the door looked to be in her late sixties. She had a kindly face and short curly white hair. Elizabeth's heart began to hammer when she realised that this could be her _grandmother _standing in front of her.

"Yes, dearie?"

"Er..." All of a sudden, she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to say, and mentally kicked herself for not having thought this through first.

"I... I'm looking for someone, and I was hoping you could help me? You are Persephone Bishop, aren't you?"

The old lady gave a warm smile. "Yes I am, dear. Why don't you come in." She moved aside and Elizabeth stepped into the cottage. It was cool, and cosy inside, and the woman led her into a small sitting room.

"What can I help you with, dear?" asked the woman as she poured Elizabeth a cup of tea and handed her a plate of biscuits.

Elizabeth was delighted by this woman's kindness, and thought she really wouldn't mind if she were her grandmother.

"The reason I'm here is that I'm looking for my father," she began.

"Oh? Well, I really don't know that I can be much help..."

"You see, all I really knew about him was his name, and that he went to the same school as me. I checked through the records at my school and there were a few possibilities. That's why I'm here. My father's name was Thom Bishop."

The woman was clearly surprised by Elizabeth's statement, because she didn't say anything for a moment. "Oh, well dearie, I really don't think my Thom is the Thom you're looking for, I'm sorry to say."

"Oh... er-"

"My Thom has been married for many years no; married right out of school, and has five darling children."

"Oh. I suppose it can't be him then."

"I'm terribly sorry. I'm wish I could tell you better news."

"Oh, that's alright. There's still others I have to visit, so maybe it will be one of them."

"I do hope so... you said you went to the same school as my Thom. You must be a witch, then?"

Elizabeth smiled lightly. "Yes. I was quite surprised to find out magic is real."

"Oh, I imagine. I remember when Thom got his letter – he was _so_ excited, and so were the rest of us, I can tell you!"

Elizabeth chatted with her for a while longer before leaving.

At the door, Persephone patted her hand. "Again, I am sorry, dear. You seem like such a lovely young girl, so polite. I do so hope you find who you're looking for."

Elizabeth gave a weak smile and stepped out into the courtyard. "Thank you, and thank you for your help."

----=[]o[]=----

"So? Did you find him?" asked Terry excitedly when Elizabeth met him in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express.

She wrinkled her nose in reply.

"No luck, then?"

"Nope."

"Well don't let it get you down. I had an idea while I was on holidays. My family has a family tree book, it'd a fairly typical one that updates automatically when a baby is born. I was thinking we could find a lineage book and see if we could find your father in one. There's a well known family of Bishops, an old pureblood one. It's fairly extensive, and all of them have always come to Hogwarts."

"That's a great idea, and if it updates automatically, I might be in it, too!"

Terry grinned. "That's what I was hoping."

ooo

"Remember, we're only assuming you have wizarding relatives, and that you're a part of one of the families in here."

"I know. I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much."

They were in the library, and Terry had just pulled down a _huge_ book from a shelf at the very back of the library.

Elizabeth let him take the lead, as he seemed to know what he was doing. He leafed through the book for several minutes before settling on a page. When she leaned over and looked, she saw a huge family tree, spilling outwards from the middle of the book and covering the entire two pages with tiny, cramped writing.

"This is quite an old pureblood family. If you're part of it, you should be proud."

"Hm. We'll see."

They both looked near the edges of the tree, and both spotted entries at the same time.

"Here's Thom Cillian Bishop," said Elizabeth.

"And here's another; son of Bella Patterson and Darius Bishop. This Thomas is married to a Gloria Brigwell and they have two children; Cardwell and Eugene."

"Ugh! Fancy naming your children that! Well, I'm not on here. This Thom is apparently dead; never married, no children."

"I happen to like the name Eugene, though I have to admit Cardwell isn't exactly common."

"So does that mean I'm not related to these particular Bishops? I can cross them off the list? Because that leaves me with no one."

Terry pondered for a moment. "Not necessarily. You see some families, particularly old pureblood families like this one have certain family rules or stipulations, if you like, that dictate when a child is considered to have _achieved_ the right to be in the family.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "The _right_?"

"Mm. Mostly I think it's to maintain family honour. For example, you may have to be legally considered an adult, so 17. Or, you might have to possess a certain skill or magical level, or have received your inheritance. I've even heard of one family tree where the people didn't appear on it until they'd died!"

"Some of those seem a bit extreme."

"I think people don't care as much these days as they did 400 years ago, but it's tradition. Also, a lot of the spells that govern these things were placed hundreds of years ago, and they don't really exist anymore, so no one is really sure how to remove them."

"This stuff is quite interesting, really," commented Elizabeth.

"Another possibility is that a child only appears on the tree if their parents are married. If there was no legal or binding relationship and the child is illegitimate, then it might be considered dishonourable, an embarrassment to the family name. Were your parents married?"

"Yes, they were. At least that's what my mother's letter said."

"What letter?"

Elizabeth waved the question aside.

"There is another possibility," continued Terry. "Some of these old pureblood families think that muggles and muggleborn witches and wizards are inferior. If this Thom Bishop took up with a muggle, both her and you might not be on there. I suppose this is similar to the rules and stipulations I was talking about. You might _have_ to be a pureblood, to be considered a part of the family."

"People really think like that?"

"Oh, yeah. Mostly purebloods, but there are some half bloods too. A bit hypocritical, really, but that's people for you. It's why sometimes a pureblood family will 'die out,' only to re-emerge 200 years later. Someone marries a muggle, but then all the children after that marry witches or wizards and eventually the blood is considered pure again."

"Hm. So I could be not related to these Bishops, or I could be and my mother is a muggle, or they just weren't married after all, or I haven't fulfilled the requirements yet?"

Terry nodded. "Yup."

Elizabeth flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling in dejection. "Great. This has been no help whatsoever."

Terry flopped down next to her. "Kind of just raises more questions, doesn't it?"

----=[]o[]=----

"I was thinking I might try out for the Quidditch team next year, what do you think?" Elizabeth asked Terry as they floated high above the Quidditch field.

He nodded enthusiastically. "We can both try out. What position did you want to play?" He turned a few loops, coming to a stop in front of her.

"I was thinking chaser. I think that's the most exciting position to play. I wouldn't mind beater, but I don't think I'd have much of a chance. They usually want guys, because they're stronger."

"Hm. I think you'd be good at chaser. I think I'll try out for one of those positions, too. I think being a seeker is overrated, personally, and I don't really fancy being a keeper."

----=[]o[]=----

All too soon for Elizabeth the holidays rolled around and it was time to return to the orphanage. Like her first year however, she had a reason for wanting to return to London.

She was going in search of the last Bishop on her list. She knew this last one, Thom Bishop from Bannock's Break, was dead. She was fairly demoralised by this, and by the fact that the lineage book she had looked at with Terry had said he never married or had any children.

Still, if he was her father, perhaps his family might be willing to accept her.

When she had started on her search to find her father, it had been purely for interest's sake, but the longer she searched the more she had begun to allow herself to wonder what having a family would be like. Elizabeth had grown increasingly jealous of Terry and Ryan's relationship over the year, and often wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister. She knew she could be setting herself up for disappointment, but she couldn't help herself.

----=[]o[]=----

The first stop in her search was the Owlery in Diagon Alley. Given that the Bishops were a well known pureblood family, she had a feeling that finding them wouldn't be too difficult.

She walked from the orphanage to the Leaky Cauldron, and into Diagon Alley where she spent twenty minutes locating the Owlery.

As she had thought, it was easy to find the Bishops. It seemed that Caroline and Matthew still lived at Bishop Manor. It was no surprise, really, given that it was a family estate. The Owlery also had a public Floo system, and she used it to Floo to Bannock's Break.

Coughing, she stepped out of the Fireplace to be greeted by a beautiful sight. Bannock's Break was a prestigious wizarding community; a collection of magnificent stone manors that exuded wealth, all sitting atop huge cliffs that looked down on sparkling sea.

The fireplace she had stepped out of was a public one, and there was a large pot of Floo powder sitting to the side. Dusting herself off in an attempt to look more presentable, she set off for the correct manor.

It was a fifteen minute walk until she came to the large property, but she enjoyed the amazing scenery. Truthfully too, she was extremely nervous. Soon enough, she found herself standing on a wide porch at the top of impressive stone steps that looked out over the ocean.

Steadying her breathing, she knocked.

Moments later, the double doors were opened wide, revealing an elderly couple, formally dressed. The woman was dressed in a flowing robe, her silver hair piled regally on her head and a champagne glass in her slender hand. The man was dressed in formal robes as well, a dark plum colour with gold ties.

"Welcome, welcome to our hom-" began the woman in an airy and gracious voice, before stopping at the sight of Elizabeth who felt sadly underdressed.

The friendly expression dropped from her face, and she spoke imperiously, "Whatever you want, we are _not _interested. We're quite busy entertaining, so if you'll excuse us..."

The elderly man made to close the door, but Elizabeth darted forward. "Please, it's important."

They paused and she continued, getting the impression that these people really couldn't give her the time of day.

"I'm looking for my family-"

"Well, I doubt they're here," said the woman condescendingly, eyeing Elizabeth down.

"My father, his name was Thom Bishop..."

At her words, the elderly couple exchanged a look that Elizabeth could not fathom.

"Well, come in quickly." They turned and stalked away, and Elizabeth jumped after them."

They led her to a sitting room, seating themselves on a low lounge. "Well, sit child. Let's get this over with. We've been hoping this day never came, but now that it has, we've no desire to prolong it for any longer than necessary."

Elizabeth was beginning to have a _very_ bad feeling.

"You are _not_ family, young lady. We'll not have anything to do with you!"

Elizabeth was taken aback by the direct statement and the woman's, who she supposed must be Madeline, tone.

"Quite right, quite right," agreed Matthew. "We have our reputation to uphold."

"And our dear son's reputation. He may be dead, but it would dishonour his memory for people to find out he has some bastard child running about, especially with that sorry excuse for a witch!"

Elizabeth was suddenly overcome with the desire to cry and choked back tears as the woman's last statement struck her. "Wait! What? My mother was a witch?"

"Well of course. Our son had that much sense, at least."

"From a bad family, mind you. That was the problem. You could tell just to look at her, she was worthless," added Matthew.

"Mmm," agreed Madeline. "The clothes she wore, the way she spoke. I've no doubt she was never even educated!"

"I must say, I really have no idea what Thom saw in her. If you want my opinion, she used some kind of Love Potion on him!" proclaimed Matthew.

At that moment, Madeline stood. "Dear, we have guests to attend to. I'll be kept no longer by this... _girl_. Shall we?"

"Yes, yes." Matthew also stood, and without another word to Elizabeth they swept away in their finery.

"Wait! Please... do you know my mother's last name?"

Madeline turned, looking down her nose at Elizabeth. "I never bothered myself to find out."

With that, the two aristocrats left the room.

Elizabeth was shooed out of the house by a servant girl, and only once she had returned to the orphanage and secluded herself in her room did she allow the tears to fall.

----=[]o[]=----

Please review, if only to let me know that people are reading. I'm happy to hear any suggestions or questions anyone has , or if you've seen any glaring mistakes (and reviews make me feel good, too).

I think I said this story would be about 15 chapters. I've decided it's only going to be seven; one for each year Elizabeth is at Hogwarts. Each year will deal with a different 'mystery' about her and her family's past, and they all sort of tie together. I'll probably update within the week.

----=[]o[]=----

Thanks to my lone reviewer for chapter one:

Vanessa riddle

Much appreciated! : )

----=[]o[]=----


	3. Philosophorum Lapis

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**----=[]3[]=----**

**Philosophorum Lapis**

**Why Didn't We Think Of That?**

**Not So Innocent Anymore**

**1926**

A couple was walking along a snowy, cobbled street when something caught the eye of the young woman. She stopped and stared in wonder at the ruby red stone that sat in the window of the jeweller's shop. "It can't be..." she whispered to herself. She pulled her partner closer to the window. _It was. _"Oh, darling! Isn't it wonderful!"

Her husband wrapped his arms around her growing stomach. "Mmm." He kissed the side of her neck. "Do you want it?"

She gasped in delight. "Really? Do you mean it?"

"Mhm. Anything for my beautiful wife, mother of my son."

She spun in his arms and placed a kiss on his lips. "I really do love you, you know."

"And I really do love you."

The woman smiled wistfully up at him, and pulled him into the shop.

**September 1****st**** at Kings Cross Station**

"How did it all go with the Bishops? Were they your family? I was expecting a letter from you all summer, but none came!" said Terry, wrapping his arms around her.

Elizabeth pulled out of the hug. "I don't want to talk about it."

She stormed away, finding an empty compartment and throwing her bag in to the overhead compartment with unnecessary force.

The train had left the station when Terry found her and took the seat across from her, looking at her in concern. "Lizzie?"

"What?" she snapped, staring out the window as the outskirts of the city flashed past.

There was a minute's silence before Terry spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Li-"

"I said no. Just drop it."

Terry was clearly not happy with the responses he was getting, but he closed his mouth and followed her lead of keeping silent. All in all, it was a thoroughly depressing train ride, but she was glad of his company and thankful that he didn't leave despite her bad attitude. It was good to know that _someone_ cared.

----=[]o[]=----

After a week of her sullenly moping around and refusing to tell her friends what had happened, they decided not to put up with it anymore. Padma, Lisa, Terry and Anthony dragged her into an empty classroom and sat her down.

"What are you guys doing?" she asked, annoyed at their persistence.

"We want you to tell _someone _what's wrong with you!" demanded Lisa.

"We're sick of you moping around all the time. You've barely said a word since you got back to school, and you hardly eat. This can't go on!" declared Padma.

"I don't know what all this is about, Liz, but it has to stop. If it doesn't, we're going to involve the teachers!" said Anthony imperiously, and she scowled up at the four of them.

"This is _none_ of your business!" she yelled, surprising them. "I don't want to talk about it, and you can't make me!"

"So, what?" asked Terry. "You're going to spend the rest of your life miserable because your family didn't like you?"

Silence met his words, and Liz was too startled by them to speak. The other three were looking askance at Terry.

"Terry!" hissed Padma, her voice low.

"Talk about tactless!" muttered Lisa.

"What family? asked Anthony. "I thought you lived in an orphanage?"

Padma cradled her face in her hands, and then pulled Anthony roughly out of the room, berating him. Lisa turned to Terry. "Talk to her." She followed after the others.

Neither of them spoke for a minute.

"You had no right to say that," she whispered, glaring at the wall. She stiffened when he sat down on the desk next to her.

"It's obvious that that's what happened, Liz."

"Is it?" she sneered, the question sounding more like a statement.

"Tell me about it, Lizzie," said Terry softly.

She sniffed, her throat growing sore as she felt the need to cry. Suddenly, it was too much, and she broke down.

"They were horrible!" she sobbed, her voice cracking. "They talked down to me and looked at me like I was worth less than the dirt on their shoes." She sniffed, trying to control her tears.

"Not that they had any dirt on their shoes, the stupid prats! You should have seen them, with their servants and their huge house and their nice clothes! The whole thing was over in minutes, and they just tossed me out. Said they wanted _nothing_ to do with me!"

She couldn't stop the tears that flowed down her face, and allowed Terry to lean her against his side, his arms encircling her protectively. "You've got it right, Lizzie; they're prats! They don't deserve to know you. It's their loss, not yours!"

"They wouldn't even give me a chance!" she cried. "They said I was a bastard child, which isn't even true! They said if people found out about me I'd be tarnishing the memory of their son and their own reputation!"

"Sshhh... don't cry," said Terry softly, wiping a tear away that was trailing down to her chin. "You are _better_ than those people. Nothing they said is true, nothing at all.

"I just worked myself up into thinking that they would want me. I knew I shouldn't have. Of course they would hate me, I always have bad luck!" she said bitterly.

After a while, Terry succeeded in calming her down. She was still upset, but she thought Terry was right; she didn't want to know people like that at all. She had never needed a family before and she didn't need one now.

Feeling teary, but much better, Elizabeth allowed Terry to take her hand and pull her off to the common room before Filch caught them out after curfew.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth was looking forward to their first Care of Magical Creatures class. She was intrigued by the book they had been assigned, a horrid thing that had snapped and scuttled about the room until she had managed to pin it down and clamp it shut with three large bull clips. When she had gone to Diagon Alley to get it, there had been a cage full and the sales assistant had been removing books with gloves and a stick to keep them at bay.

They were gathered outside Hagrid's hut with the Hufflepuff's when someone asked the question everyone was thinking.

Hannah Abbott raised her hand. "Sir? How do we actually open our books?"

Hagrid chuckled and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "You lot too, eh? All ye've got ta do is stroke the spine." Hagrid grabbed a book of Justin Finch-Fletchley and demonstrated. The book fell open, lying harmlessly in his giant hand.

"Why didn't we think of _that_," Terry whispered sarcastically in her ear. She grinned, but her mind was elsewhere.

Elizabeth wondered if it worked on other books too, in particular, if it would work on a certain leather green book hidden in a secret cupboard in her bedroom at the orphanage.

----=[]o[]=----

The next weekend Elizabeth and Terry went down to Quidditch tryouts. She had decided she was trying out for chaser, and Terry was trying out for the beater position. Ryan had let her use his broom, which was much better than the slow school ones.

The captain of the team put them through separate drills, and then they had a game, keeping a record of who scored the most goals, saved the most goals, hit the most bludgers and caught the snitch.

At the end of it, they congregated on the field, waiting for the captain to speak.

To her relief and excitement, Elizabeth had scored a place on the team, as had Terry. She had a feeling it was going to be a good year.

----=[]o[]=----

"Hey Liz."

Elizabeth turned at the sound of her name and smiled. "Hey, Harry! Haven't seen you in ages!"

"Yeah, I know. How was your holidays?"

Elizabeth scrunched up her nose, and tried not to think of the Bishops. "Oh you know how it is at the orphanage. A bunch of laughs."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry."

She smiled. "Don't worry about it. How was yours?"

Harry smiled. "Oh, you know how it is at the Dursley's. A bunch of laughs." The shared a laugh, and Harry said. "Actually my holidays was kind of eventful."

They started walking towards the library. "I blew up my aunt, and then I ran away, ended up staying at the Leaky Cauldron for a while."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Really? That does sound eventful."

Finding Ron and Hermione, they took seats at a table in a quiet corner and pulled out their quills and parchment.

She was just leaning forward to pick up a quill when she heard the girl's voice.

"Oh, what a beautiful necklace!" exclaimed Hermione, leaning forward to look at the red stone that hung around Elizabeth's neck.

"Oh, thanks. It was my mother's. I don't usually wear it actually, given that I'm not particularly fond of my mother. I don't know why I did today."

"Well, it's very pretty. It's very intricate, isn't it? And that stone is beautiful. Is it a ruby?"

Elizabeth frowned, inspecting the stone. "I really don't know, to be quite honest."

By now, Ron and Harry were looking too.

"Wow! That must've cost a bloody fortune!" said Ron. "That stone is huge!"

Elizabeth smiled shyly. "I suppose. Are you okay, Harry?"

Elizabeth peered at him curiously. He was looking strangely at the necklace, not saying anything. "Wha- Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Sorry." He smiled sheepishly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's just..." Harry leaned in closer. "Remember first year? The whole Philosopher's Stone thing?"

Three heads nodded simultaneously. "Your necklace looks _really_ similar to that. It's a bit smaller, but the colour is the same. It just reminded me, you know? Not very pleasant memories."

Hermione's face lit up. "Does it really? I always wondered what the Philosopher's Stone looked like."

Ron snorted. "What? And you couldn't look in a book?"

Hermione sniffed. "I suppose I was busy with other things, like schoolwork, and then," she lowered her voice, hissing quietly, "trying to work out what monster was in the Chamber of Secrets!"

"Alright, alright, no need to get snarky!" said Ron, holding his arms up and sharing a knowing look with Harry. "Why don't you go and find a good book now? I'm sure there's something in here."

Hermione beamed. "That's a fantastic idea, Ron! I'll be right back." With that, Hermione bounced away, disappearing between two towering shelves.

"She really is enthusiastic about books, isn't she?" asked Elizabeth. "She should have been in Ravenclaw."

"That's Hermione for you," commented Harry. "She gets an idea in her head, and she won't rest until she's read every book on the subject."

Ten minutes later, Hermione was back, dumping a big heavy book on the table, along with several smaller ones. Ï think those smaller ones only mention the stone briefly, so I bought this one, too," she said, indication the big one. "_A History of Alchemy_, it _has _to be in here, don't you think? After all, this book is relatively modern."

Hermione flipped open the front cover, then the next page (which was blank), the next (which contained a foreword by Nicholas Flamel), and finally stopped at the contents page. The book listed events in chronological order, and Hermione's finger drifted past several mentions of 'Philosopher's Stone' and straight to the bottom.

Turning to the appropriate page, she began to read aloud.

"_For centuries,_ _alchemists have been searching for the Philosopher's Stone. Myth and legend tells of a stone that will grant one an immortal life, and for many years such a stone has been sought after, despite the disbelief of many sceptics._

_Then, in the early twentieth century a Philosopher's Stone was invented by Nicholas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore, both renowned alchemists of the 19__th__ and 20__th__ centuries. After decades of research both in books and in the field, scouring ancient texts and up to date alchemy and potions manuals, the pair hit on a method of creation for the stone. This method is not available for public knowledge, having been kept confidential at the discretion of the inventors._

_The final Philosopher's Stone was the first invented by the pair that functioned fully and had no undesirable side effects. Among the first eleven, only five were actually shown to prolong life in trials on dying animals and, in a few cases, men on their deathbeds. Of those five, all possessed unwanted effects on the drinker of the elixir. These effects included sickness, insanity, and a reciprocal draining of long term life force in return for temporary juvenility. When the elixir of the sixth stone was drunk, both the stone and rabbit who ingested the elixir began to waste away at an identical rate. The stone slowly disintegrated, leaving a fine dust that resembled bone._

_Around the time of the development of the tenth stone, it was discovered that the ninth stone had been stolen by persons unknown. _

_Whether the stone lies in some individual's private possession or at the bottom of the ocean is unknown, though for years after rumours abounded of the stone being sold and resold on the black market, at one point passing through the shop of ill-repute Borgin and Burkes._

_Many years later, Nicholas Flamel made a public announcement that all but one of the stones was destroyed to prevent misuse by scoundrels and dark wizards, though it is unknown if this includes the stone that was allegedly stolen."_

There was a brief silence before Hermione commented, "Well that's interesting. I wonder if one really was stolen?"

"Imagine how much it would be worth!" said Ron, his eyes wide. "The only one in the world!"

"Yeah, but if it still exists, it's one of the ones that makes you sick, or sends you round the bend, or kills you. Only the last one actually worked properly, and that one was the one destroyed in first year," replied Elizabeth.

"There's a picture," pointed out Harry. "I think that's the one I saw in real life; at least, it looks pretty similar."

"It does look a lot like yours," said Hermione, glancing between the page and Elizabeth's necklace.

"Well, if that's the eleventh stone, it's been destroyed." Elizabeth smiled wryly. "To be honest, I really can't tell the difference between my stone, that stone, and any other red stone I've ever seen."

They chuckled, all of them agreeing that it was be difficult to tell the difference if you didn't know what you were looking for.

"Well, I'll see you guys later, alright?" said Elizabeth, getting up. "I promised Terry I'd join the Exploding Snape club with him." She made a face, indicating her desire _not_ to. "The things you do for your friends, eh?"

"Seeya, Liz," said Ron, waving a hand, and Harry and Hermione said goodbye too.

"Bye. Let's try not to make it so long before I talk to you guys again." Smiling, she turned and walked off to find Terry.

----=[]o[]=----

That night before bed, Elizabeth pulled off the heavy necklace and admired it in the muted light of the candle that burned on the table beside her bed. It was a deep, dark blood red in the dim light, and seemed to actually absorb the light in a way she had never noticed before. She stared at it for several minutes, struck by it, before she opened her top drawer and laid it inside.

For some reason, she couldn't shake the thought out of her head that it looked immensely similar to the picture of the philosopher's stone they had been looking at.

----=[]o[]=----

Hogwarts archives were located in a room underneath the main library. The old copies of the prophet had some sort of charm to prevent decay on them, and the pages were still crisp and new.

Luckily, copies were kept as far back as she needed. She trawled through the stacks of decades-old issues until she came to the 1916 editions. The book had said one of the stones

The Prophet's from 1916 were a great deal smaller than issues of the current day. Another lucky thing was that back in those days they did not seem to release an issue every day. There was no discernable pattern, but it seemed they had simply released issues when there was enough news to make a decent read, resulting in three or four issues a week.

She began with the January issues and had no luck until the last week in February. It was a fairly brief article, but it was the sort of thing she was looking for.

_Yesterday, the renowned alchemist Nicholas Flamel publicly announced another breakthrough in his attempts to create the mythical Philosopher's Stone with his partner of invention, Albus Dumbledore. _

_Mr. Dumbledore and Mr. Flamel have been heralded as the upcoming wizards of the age, their brilliance and understanding of magic of a level unseen for many years. Their quest for the means of creation of a Philosopher's Stone had garnered much attention (and scepticism) from scholars, in particular one Mongomery Wickham from the Department of Mysteries. "Great wizards have been searching for the mythical stone for a great many years now. There is no true evidence it even exists, and yet these gentlemen believe they can create one! Preposterous, I say!"_

_Flamboyant over-enthusiasm or genuine breakthrough? The two inventors have refused to reveal the exact nature of their mysterious breakthrough to the public, so for now, rest assured that speculation will continue._

Elizabeth made a copy of the page and returned the newspaper to its place on the shelf, removing the next issue. She was definitely on the right track now, and hoped she would come along something soon that would help her.

She came across another article in a March issue. It was shorter than the last and didn't give her much new information.

_Unofficial reports are claiming that one of the experimental versions of the Philosopher's Stone has been stolen, although neither Nicholas Flamel or Albus Dumbledore have confirmed the rumours. An Auror friend of Dumbledore's, Cauley Fieldpickle, was called to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where the pair were conducting their research._

_There has been no official comment from the Auror Department regarding the alleged robbery._

Ten minutes later, she came across another.

_Rumours have surfaced of a ruby red stone, alleged to be the Stolen Philosopher's Stone changing hands through an underground trading group run by Walter Borgin. The Seventh Stone, as it has come to be known, is alleged to be successful in prolonging life, but only with unintended side-effects that are detrimental to those using the stone. Walter Burgin was unavailable for comment._

Elizabeth huffed in annoyance. Everybody was unavailable for comment.

That was the last article she found on the subject, and she stuffed the newspapers back in no particular order, annoyed at having found practically nothing. It didn't even verify that the stone had been stolen; everything was just rumour.

----=[]o[]=----

"It was a complete waste of four hours of my life," she complained to Padma and Lisa at breakfast the next day.

"We can't help you if we don't know what you're looking for, honey," said Lisa, sipping her pumpkin juice.

Elizabeth sighed. "It's nothing. I was doing more research into my family and I came across something they owned. Something that was stolen a few years ago, but I don't know if it actually _was_ stolen or not."

Lisa shrugged. "You could check the Auror records, see if there's anything in there about it."

"Auror records? How do I do that? Surely they aren't open to the public."

Lisa sighed. "Surely you know after over two years that Terry's father works in that department. Get him to take you."

"But we'd have to go on the holidays."

"So?"

----=[]o[]=----

"Ready to go?"

Elizabeth turned and smiled. "Hey Terry."

"Hey. Come on." Terry tilted his head. "My dad's waiting." They walked out of the Leaky Cauldron where they had agreed to meet and went into Diagon Alley. From there, Terry's father took them to the Ministry, which was all decked out with Christmas decorations, and to the Auror Department.

"My Dad thinks I'm showing you around because you want to be an Auror, so we can't take too long. He said he'd give us half an hour, this isn't strictly allowed."

When Terry's Dad left them, they went straight to the record section. It was a huge room, but it was neatly ordered and they went straight to the correct section. Elizabeth knew from the Daily Prophet issues the week and year the stone had supposedly been stolen. She pulled out the box labelled with the right year and pulled of the lid.

Files for that year were ordered chronologically and she flicked through until she came to the right time. Her heart beat faster as she saw a file with the name _Cauley Fieldpickle _written on it. Most files had more than one name written on them, but this one only had his. She pulled it out. A CLASSIFIED stamp was stamped across the front. Ignoring it, she flipped open the cover and scanned the paperwork.

"So it _was_ stolen," breathed Elizabeth, and Terry leaned in for a look.

"What are you trying to find out about a Philosopher's Stone for?" asked Terry, confusion in his voice.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Just curious."

"I didn't know there was more than one.

"There isn't, not real ones anyway. This one that was stolen was one of the experimental ones. It worked, but it had unintended side-effects, according to what I've read."

"So, you've found what you were looking for?" asked Terry.

Elizabeth nodded, still reading the file. According to what was written, the Stone had not been found.

There wasn't much information, and she was about to close it when she saw a loose sheet at the back. Pulling it out, she read the scrawled writing.

_New lead – contact Walter Borgin. _

Elizabeth remembered from the articles that he had run some business that supposedly sold the stone.

"Who is Walter Borgin, do you know?"

Terry frowned. "I'm not sure, but there's a shop in Diagon Alley called Borgin and Burke's." He shrugged. "Maybe he's the owner, or related."

"I should go there," Elizabeth mused, but Terry didn't hear.

"We should go," he said. "My Dad will be expecting us in a few minutes.

Elizabeth nodded and put the file back in its correct place.

"Do you want to go do something?" asked Terry as they walked back to his father's office.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I was thinking about going to that Borgin and Burke's place you told me about, see if he has any information."

"Are you crazy! You can't go there!"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him. "Why not?"

"Because! Everyone knows you don't go down Knockturn Alley! It's full of criminals and bad sorts."

"Well I'm trying to find information. I'll be careful."

"I'm serious, Lizzie. No one goes there unless they're up to something shady."

"Well I'm going, whether you like it or not. I guess I'll see you back at school. Merry Christmas." She sped up, heading for the lifts.

She heard Terry sigh and run to catch up. "I can't let you go by yourself, can I?"

...

A half hour later they entered Knockturn Alley, the light instantly becoming darker. The road was narrower than Diagon Alley, the street uneven and full of holes. She didn't say it, but now that she was here, she was glad she hadn't come alone.

Borgin and Burke's was not far in to the Alley. It was a small shop with a glass front, displaying all sorts of old and deadly looking things, including what looked like a real human arm, all dried up and sitting proudly at the forefront of the display.

"Ugh! I don't like the look of this place at all!" muttered Elizabeth as they walked past the window.

"I told you. They sell all sorts of dangerous things here, deal in Dark Magic, they do. I don't know how they get away with it. They've probably got some high-ranking minister in their pocket."

As they walked in, a bell tinkled, and it was a deceivingly happy sound for the creepy aura of the shop. No sooner had the door swung shut behind them then a man swooped down on them. "Can I help you?" he asked impatiently, eyeing them with unconcealed disgust.

"Are you Walter Borgin?"

The man sneered. "I'm his grandson, and he's been dead for nigh on forty years, so you'll have a bit of trouble getting a hold of him, girl."

"Oh, well maybe you can help me then," she said, standing taller and looking him dead in the eye. She didn't like his attitude at all.

"And what can I do for two little children? You don't look like paying customers."

"I'm looking for something that your grandfather may have once sold. A Philosopher's Stone. I read he owned a business that passed it on. Was it this one?"

Borgin looked surprised, though his scowl remained firmly in place. "No. It was well before this shop, well before my time. What would someone like you be wanting with such a thing?"

"I want to know if it's true that he sold it, and if so, if you had some records or something to show who he sold it too."

Borgin gave an unkind laugh. "Even if I were so inclined to tell you, missie, that kind of information costs money."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "What if I told you I know where the stone is now?"

Now Borgin narrowed his eyes.

"Then why would you be looking for who it was sold to decades ago?"

"So it was sold here?"

"I didn't say that, necessarily. I was merely questioning why, if you know where it was, you would want to know its history."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I found it and want to return it to its owner."

Borgin grinned nastily. "You're a little liar, aren't you?"

"Hey!" said Terry in a warning voice, and then tugged on her sleeve. "Let's go Lizzie."

Reluctantly, Elizabeth allowed Terry to guide her out. There was no way they were going to get information from Borgin.

"Have a nice day," he said sarcastically as they left.

Terry gave an audible sigh of relief as they stepped out of the shop.

"Well that was completely pointless," Elizabeth huffed.

Suddenly, a scuffle broke out to their left. Two men were engaged in a brawl and as they watched, one took a knife and ripped it across the other man's throat. The man fell to the ground, grasping at his throat where blood was bubbling from the deep wound. In moments, his eyes became lifeless and dull and he slumped to the ground, dead.

"Let's get out of here," said Terry, grabbing her hand. She willing let him lead her away and they took off running for the safety and sunshine of Diagon Alley.

----=[]o[]=----

"Home, sweet home," breathed Elizabeth as she stepped back into her dorm after the Christmas holidays.

She flopped down on her bed for a minute, breathing in the familiar scent of the pine bed frame and the fresh blankets.

"I suppose I'd better unpack," she groaned, as the other girls filed into the room. It never took her long, given that she had so few belongings. The last thing she pulled out of the old bag she used was the necklace.

It really was a beautiful piece of jewellery. Staring at it, she frowned. She had thought the necklace was some kind of family heirloom, but now that she thought about it, it really didn't look that old at all. It didn't have the look of antique jewellery, and the design reminded her of some seventies era jewellery she had seen.

Pulling it off, she inspected it to see if there was some kind of jewellers mark on it.

She found one on the back, on the flat gold behind the stone. Looking closely, she saw what appeared to be a necklace hanging on a wand. That was promising. She knew from Madeline that her mother had been a witch, and it looked as if the necklace had been made, or at least sold by a wizarding jeweller.

Tucking it in to her pocket, she resolved to find out more.

----=[]o[]=----

"Lizzie, did you see!" squealed Lisa. "We get to go on a Hogsmeade trip this weekend! I'm so excited!"

Elizabeth smiled at Lisa's exuberance. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Then show it!" She grabbed Elizabeth's hands and started pulling her around the common room, dancing. Eventually, she had Elizabeth laughing, something she hadn't done properly in a while.

----=[]o[]=----

The trip to Hogsmeade was the perfect opportunity for Elizabeth to visit the local Owlery and look up a list of jewellers.

She slipped out of Scrivenshaft's, leaving Padma and Lisa to browse while she went two shops down to the Owlery. It was a tall building with a high ceiling, light shining in from high windows that opened wide for the owls to come and go.

The lower levels were darker, and she made her way to the back of the large square room. To her left and right, the walls were lined with fireplaces, and designated apparition and portkey points.

Along the back wall ran a long counter, behind which stood one attendant at an old cash register. The long counter was covered in stacks of parchment and jars filled with all sorts of quills, wax seals and envelopes, ribbons and ink wells.

"Portkey, Floo, owl or apparition miss?" asked the middle aged man behind the counter as she approached.

"I'm actually just after an address," replied Elizabeth.

"We have directories for London, several covering all of Great Britain and several international directories for home addresses only."

"I'm looking for a jeweller, although I'm not sure what it's called. I have," Elizabeth pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket and handed it to the attendant. "This." She had copied the symbol from the back of her necklace onto it.

"It's their symbol."

"Hmmm... I don't recognise it. Where is this jeweller located?"

"Ah... I'm not sure. I'm hoping London." She was assuming London; if her mother had put her in an orphanage there, she had probably lived there. She only hoped the jeweller was still in business.

"Well there's a great many jewellers in London. I assume it's a wizarding jeweller you're looking for, because if it's muggle you may not find it in these directories. We only deal with a few muggle businesses."

Elizabeth nodded and pointed to the symbol. "Yes, I think so, as that's a wand."

"Ah yes, I see now," replied the man, inspecting the drawing closer. "Well then, follow me this way." He led her off, stopping three quarters of the way along the counter. He stooped down, and when he reappeared he was holding a big heavy book. He set it down on the cupboard, the _thwak _echoingloudly in the big room.

"This is the business directory for the London area. If you can't find it in there, you may want to try looking in the directory for England, which will include business in the outer suburbs, as well as everywhere else."

He flipped open the book and turned through pages. "Here we go – jewellers."

They began to scan through the advertisements and lists of jewellers. There weren't that many of them and it wasn't long before they got lucky.

"Ah! Here we go," said the man, and Elizabeth looked hopefully to where he was pointing to the very bottom corner of the page.

"Dimitri the Jeweller." He tapped the page. The ad was much smaller than all the others, only taking up a small strip about a centimetre high and seven wide. At the end of the three words was the same symbol that was etched onto the back of the necklace.

"Lockrune Alley? Where's that?"

"It's an alley off Diagon Alley. Down the very end, I believe."

Elizabeth copied down the address, marvelling at her luck that it had been so easy to find the place. "Thank you for your help," she said brightly to the assistant, and left the Owlery Post to find Padma and Lisa again.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth waited out the rest of the school year with a constant feeling of impatience always in the back of her mind. She could do nothing more about finding out about the history of the necklace until she was free to go where she pleased, and that meant the summer holidays when she was back at the orphanage.

Finally, the end of June came and it was time to leave Hogwarts. The students gathered on the lawn in front of the castle and after a short wait, the carriages arrived to take them to the Hogwarts Express.

Liz gasped. Instead of invisible horses, there were large skeletal looking horses, ugly beasts, pulling the carriages. Liz looked about her, but nobody else seemed to see them.

"Terry," she whispered, tugging on his sleeve. "Do you see those... things!"

He frowned. "Wha- wow, thestrals!"

"Those _horses_ or whatever they are that are pulling the carriages are thestrals?"

"Yeah." Terry's face lit up with interest. "I'll bet it's that fight we saw – the one in Knockturn Alley, you remember?"

"How could I forget," she replied darkly, scowling in the direction of the skeletal, winged horses. She had read about them in books, though she had never seen a picture of one.

"They say that if you can see the thestrals, then you're no longer innocent," said Terry. "Because you've seen death."

Elizabeth shivered, and gave the thestrals a wide berth as she got into the carriage.

----=[]o[]=----

A bell tinkled when she opened the door, the only sound in the otherwise silent shop, apart from quiet piano music playing in the background. She was in Lockrune Alley, at Dimitri the Jewellers. She approached the counter where a man in his mid-forties was filling out a ledger.

"Hi. I was wondering if you could help me? I'm looking for a particular piece of jewellery that I believe was sold here a couple of years ago."

"How long ago and what piece?" asked the man, his tone professional.

"I'm not sure of the exact date, but it would have been at least twelve years ago, I suppose."

"I'm sorry, but I really can't help you there." The man shrugged apologetically. "My family has only owned the place for the last six years."

"Oh, well are there any records left over that I might be able to look at?"

"I'm not sure that's allowed," said the man, a frown appearing on his face, but then he shrugged again. "Either way, it doesn't matter because there aren't any. We moved the business here after we bought it from the previous owners; wanted to expand a bit and the old building was too small. It's just down the Alley a little way."

Elizabeth thanked the man and returned to the cobbled Alley. It didn't take her long to find the old building. The old shop was tucked in between two larger buildings. It was made of stone with a thatched roof that had seen better days. The whole building was less than four metres across, and clearly hadn't been inhabited any time recently.

The door pushed open easily, revealing the abandoned interior. The floor was littered with pebbles, leaves and dust, and a broken set of chairs and a table sat in one corner near the door. There was a bare counter at the front and Elizabeth could see a dark doorway behind it.

She was about to go through the door and down the steps when she paused. It was extremely dark down there, and she couldn't light her wand when she wasn't at school.

Going back to the counter, she searched the numerous doors and to her great relief found one candle. She couldn't find any matches though, and supposed wizards didn't really need them when they could use a spell. She ended up going back into the Alley and asking a passer-by to light it for her.

Back in the shop, she descended the stairs, pushing aside cobwebs and ducking under low beams that were rotting away. The cellar was filled with boxes and she opened them to find years worth of damp receipts and paperwork.

She spent hours searching before she found what she wanted.

The bill was credited to the account of Thom Bishop. She stared in the surprise at the amount he had paid for the necklace; it was not small by any means. She shook her head, amazed that anyone would spend that much on jewellery. The bill detailed the cost of each part of the jewellery; the chain, the gold that the stone was set in, and the cost to make it, but there was no price for the stone itself. Sighing in frustration, she flung the bill down carelessly and left the shop.

If she couldn't get the information she wanted from the receipts, perhaps she could ask the man who had sold it. She had passed an Owlery on her way through Diagon Alley, and she headed back there now.

Dimitri Scardieri lived in Hogsmeade, at 6 Bluelake Lane.

The next day, she made her way to that address. It was a quiet street with neat, slightly larger than average houses.

She arrived at number six and knocked lightly on the door. It was opened moments later by a dark haired Italian looking man with a little girl giggling from behind his knee.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Dimitri Scardieri."

"That is me," he replied.

Elizabeth tilted her head quizzically. "I'm sorry. Maybe I have the wrong person. I thought you would be older." The man in the door was no older than his mid thirties, far too young to be the man she was looking for.

"Perhaps you're looking for my father? His name was also Dimitri, but he has been dead for over a year now."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

The man waved her apology aside. "He had a good life. Perhaps I can help you? What is it you needed my father for?"

"Oh, well, seeing as I'm here, I suppose..."

Dimitri stepped aside and motioned for her to come in.

"I'm here to ask about a particular piece of jewellery that was sold by Dimitri's Jewellers a little less than fifteen years ago."

The man led her to a comfortable sitting room where three more children were playing quietly on the floor. "My children." He pointed each of them out. "Alexander, Monique, Dean and Victoria."

Elizabeth smiled at the children and took a seat in one of the comfy arm chairs.

Dimitri sat down opposite her and clapped his hands. "So! What is this piece of jewellery you want to ask about. I don't know if I'll be able to help you. Fifteen years is a long time, and we sold a lot of jewellery."

"I understand." She pulled the necklace out of her pocket and handed it to him. Dimitri took it from her and stared at it for a minute before speaking. "A beautiful piece. I was only a young boy when we owned the shop, but I remember this stone; it was one of the first ones my father let me cut by myself. If I recall, it was a young man getting it cut and set in the necklace for his wife." He looked up from the necklace. "Were they your parents?

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I'm fairly sure. I'm trying to find out more about them. Are you saying that the stone came from somewhere else?"

Dimitri nodded. "Yes, they - your parents - brought it in and asked for it to be set. I believe your mother said it had been in the family for some time."

"Do you know anything else about it at all?"

Dimitri shook his head, but then paused. "Although, now that you mention it, my father did say there was something strange about the stone. He said it was like none he had ever seen, and he had been cutting stones since he was young. He said the way it captured the light was odd, and its structure was not one he recognised. It isn't a ruby, I can tell that now that I too have experience."

Dimitri could tell her nothing more than that, and she left with little more information than she had come with.

----=[]o[]=----

It was a few weeks later when Elizabeth remembered the green book she had hidden in the secret compartment in the wall, and her idea that it might open like their Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

She approached the wall to retrieve the book when she realised she had absolutely no idea how to open the cupboard.

She banged on the wall where she remembered it being, but it didn't sound different to any other part of the wall. She pressed lightly, hoping to release a catch of some sort, but nothing happened.

She was tempted to try an Alohamora on the wall, but of course she was not allowed to use magic.

Frowning, she sat back down and stared at the wall, willing it to open and reveal the book, but it refused to do so.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth was lying on her bed when she had an idea. She had begun to think she was completely out of leads, but there were two people who could tell her exactly what she needed to know. Yet another trip to the Owlery was in order.

...

Albus Dumbledore did not have a listed address, but Nicholas Flamel did. He resided in a stately old mansion in a scenic and quiet wizarding village called Montview. True to its name, it was surrounded by snow-capped mountains that towered above the tall town. Church bells rang in the crisp, clean, chill air as Elizabeth stepped out of the public Floo. It was situated near the edge of what she thought must be the town square. She had no idea which way she was supposed to go and stopped the first person she saw.

"Excuse me," she called, and the young boy stopped. "Can you tell me where Lark Street is please?"

The boy directed her down a short lane that opened up onto Lark Street. It was a quiet street with large houses on one side and meadow on the other. Number six was huge, a three story white walled, blue-roofed mansion at the end of a long gravelled path.

A gardener was working in the garden, magically trimming the hedges into fantastic shapes. He gave her a nod and a friendly smile as she passed him on her way up to the front door.

She knocked, and the door was opened seconds later by a maid. "Can I help you?" she asked expectantly.

"Yes, I was wondering if I might talk with Mr. Flamel?"

The maid frowned slightly. "Well, I suppose I could ask, but you don't have an appointment, do you?"

"Er... no. I didn't realise I would need one."

"Well, Mr. Flamel is a very popular man, but he doesn't have any other guests at the moment. I'll ask if he'll see you."

Elizabeth nodded politely and waited at the door until the maid came back. The door was opened, and Elizabeth was surprised to see not the maid, but a man who must be Nicholas Flamel. He was the oldest man Elizabeth had ever seen. His hair was the same colour as the mountains around his home and his eyes were as ice-blue as the sky, but rather than cold, they were friendly and warm.

"Hello, my dear! How can I be of assistance to you?"

"Oh, well, I was hoping to talk to you about something important."

"Well then, best step inside. Come, come."

He ushered her into an elegant sitting room and the maid bustled in with tea.

"So, my dear. What is your name and what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I'm Elizabeth. I wanted to ask you about the Philosopher's Stone."

The old man chuckled. "I should have guessed. I have so many visitors ask me about that, though none quite as young as you. The Philosopher's Stone was one of the greatest achievements of my life."

"I'm interested in particular about the one that was stolen..."

"Ah!" He gave a secret smile. "So you're a treasure hunter, are you?"

Elizabeth smiled back at him. "I've been doing some research, trying to track its path, but I haven't been having much luck. Really, I've only ascertained that it _was_ really stolen, because I looked at some Auror records."

Nicholas wagged a finger at her and smiled. "Naughty, naughty. Though a good idea. Albus and I tried to keep it quiet; after all, the stone in one's hands was quite dangerous. Only the last stone was able to be used successfully without resulting in damage to the drinker of the elixir that the stone produced."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I've read something about that. Can I show you something?"

"Of course, of course."

Her heart beating faster, Elizabeth pulled the chain from around her neck and held it up.

At the sight of the necklace, Nicholas gasped, his eyes lit up and he reached out for it.

"Oh, my..." he murmured, caressing the stone. "Where did you get this?" he asked, his tone awed.

"My mother gave it to me. Is it... the Seventh Stone?"

Nicholas chuckled. "Yes, yes, I remember they called it that." He paused for a moment. "And yes... I do believe it is. Oh my..."

He seemed transfixed by the stone, staring deeply at it as if it would reveal all the secrets in the world.

"It has been my greatest question and my greatest fear, this stone. Where had it gone too, and who was using it? You say your mother gave it to you?"

"Yes, when she left me in an orphanage."

"Do you know if she used it?"

Elizabeth frowned. "I've really no idea. I hadn't even thought about it. In all honesty, I didn't really think that this could possibly be the Seventh Stone."

Nicholas seemed to shake himself, and finally tore his eyes away from the stone, fixing her with a fierce look. "My dear, you must not use this stone!"

"Oh! I hadn't even thought about _using_ it," Elizabeth assured him. "I just wanted to know if it _was_ the stolen stone. I've read about the side effects some of the stones had, so I wouldn't risk it."

Nicholas nodded. "We tested the elixir on catsals, as they have a relatively short life. This stone was the third, I believe, which was actually successful in prolonging life. The first two prolonged life, but not indefinitely. The Seventh Stone however, and the ones that came after it seemed to do that. The catsals showed no signs of aging at all. Unfortunately, after a while of consuming the elixir, they began to show signs of paranoia and aggression. They took to running in circles and making odd repetitive motions," explained Nicholas his hands waving madly.

"And you think it would do the same to people?"

Nicholas nodded with certainty. "We tried it on several different species also, rats and rabbits. They showed exactly the same symptoms. Of course, we couldn't test humans, but all the evidence indicates that the Stones have the same effect on all species.

Elizabeth frowned, deep in thought. Had the stone caused her mother to become paranoid and aggressive? Was that the reason she had abandoned her daughter and (supposedly) put a curse on her?

"You must tell no one that you own this stone, child!"

Elizabeth stared at him. "You mean you don't want it back? It is yours, after all."

Nicholas shook his head. "It is yours, now. I would not take it away from you, even if I desired it. But you _must not _tell anyone! It could bring you great danger. Even with knowledge that it causes the drinker damage, there are still those who would risk that for eternal life, and they would do anything to get it. I promise you, no one will hear this secret from my lips."

Elizabeth nodded, letting the information sink in. "I won't tell anyone."

"Good, good."

"What about Professor Dumbledore? Shouldn't you tell him?"

Nicholas sighed. "Albus is such a good friend, and I've no doubt he has been longing to know what became of one of our precious stones. They are all destroyed now, but for that one." Nicholas paused and seemed to be thinking. "Perhaps I will tell him. Not who has it or how I came by the knowledge, but perhaps when he comes to visit next I shall tell him that the Stone still exists, and is in safe hands."

Nicholas took her hands and clasped them between his, closing the necklace between her hands. He smiled warmly. "Be careful, young one."

"I will," replied Elizabeth softly.

----=[]o[]=----

Chapter 3 completed! Hope everyone enjoyed it. Please, please, please review and let me know what you think so far.

Thanks to kal for reviewing the last chapter.


	4. The Flames of the Founders

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling

**----=[4]=----**

**The Founders' Flames**

**A Crash Course In Curses**

**Look Who's Back**

Elizabeth was making her way down to the front of the school to see the Beauxbaton's and Durmstrang students arrive when she saw Ron and Hermione walking down. "Hey Ron, Hermione."

They stopped, waiting for her to catch up. "Hey Lizzie."

They continued walking, and Ron spoke.

"What's that?" he asked suddenly, pointing to where Filch had a large ladder leaned up against the wall and was polishing away.

At the top of the Entrance Hall, half way up the wall was a large display. It appeared to be made of gold, and was in the shape of the four animals that represented each house, all intertwined. The eyes of each animal glowed with brightly coloured fire, except for the snake, whose eyes were lifeless.

The badger's eyes were filled with yellow fire, the Raven's with blue flame, and the lion's with red.

At the top of the statue, another flame burned an odd brown colour.

Hermione sighed in resignation, and said in a voice that suggested she had said it many times before, "If you'd read Hogwarts, A History, you would know what that is."

"Well sorry for not having read every book in the school library," replied Ron sarcastically. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

Hermione sniffed, ignoring Ron's tone of voice. "It's called the Founders' Flames, or the Flames of the Founders. It's been here since 1100, when the last Founder left the school. It was made as a tribute to the Founders, so people would always remember them."

"Why doesn't the Snake have a fire behind it?" asked Elizabeth curiously.

"The flame in each of the animal's eyes only burns when a descendant of that founder is at the school. Of course, Hufflepuff has hundreds of descendants, and Ravenclaw and Gryffindor have a fair few as well. Obviously, some of the students at Hogwarts are descended from the founders. Slytherin on the other hand, has no descendants at the school. The only surviving descendant of course, is You-Know-Who," she explained matter-of-factly.

"So what's the flame burning behind them all?" asked Elizabeth, looking over her shoulder at the display.

"It isn't supposed to be that brown colour," explained Hermione. "When all the flames are ignited and come together, the flame turns white, the colour of peace. It's _supposed_ to represent unity between the houses, but as there are no descendants of Slytherin at the school, the snake's flame isn't lit and the unity flame is that strange brown colour."

...

The arrival of the two schools was quite spectacular. The Beauxbaton's students arrived in a huge powder-blue carriage that flew, and was pulled by the biggest horses Elizabeth had ever seen in her life.

The Durmstrang students arrived in a big wooden ship that came upwards out of the Black Lake, water spilling down from the sails and over the sides of the impressive ship.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth settled back into her classes with ease, until an event in Potions which reminded her all too clearly of her bad luck.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were quietly brewing when Snape's angry voice filled the air, directed at Justin who was working at the bench next to hers.

"No, no, no, Finch-Fletchley! I said ground _corn _kernels, not acorns! Get away from there, you foolish boy!"

Justin ducked away just in time, but Elizabeth was not so lucky. She moved away, but tripped over the chair Justin had pushed out as he had moved away.

As she was standing up, she was hit full in the face with Justin's exploding potion.

"Agh!" complained Elizabeth as she was doused from head to toe in the foul smelling potion. She didn't have much time to dwell on the fact that her robes were all wet when she felt a tingling sensation begin all over her skin, a sensation which soon turned fiery.

Elizabeth whimpered in pain, and then began to scream. The potion was burning through her skin, making her flesh red and raw.

Her eyes widened at the sight of her skin being eaten away and without another though she dashed for the sink, desperately scrubbing at her arms as she went, but to no avail. She was brought to her knees by the pain, frantic sobs still ripping from her throat.

She was about to black out when someone began to douse her with water, the cool liquid slowly relieving the terrible pain that was consuming her body. Through the haze she seemed to be in, she felt herself lifted by strong arms and the smooth rhythm of quick footsteps as she was carried out of the room.

----=[]o[]=----

It was dark when Elizabeth woke next, but despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, Madam Pomfrey immediately bustled to her side and poured a potion down her throat.

"The potion I gave you when you arrived here is knitting you skin back together," said the Matron quietly. "What I just gave you was a pain relieving potion."

"Thanks," Elizabeth began to say, but she cut off with a gasp when the action pulled painfully at her face.

"There, there. Don't try to talk just now, dear. Also, it's terribly important that you don't move. Your skin is like wet tissue paper at the moment, liable to rip at any minute. Don't you worry though. I'm quite confident you'll recover fully, with little to no scarring," assure the Matron, talking in a soothing voice.

Another vial was placed lightly at her lips and she swallowed painfully.

"If it weren't for Professor Snape's immediate action, you'd be a lot worse off, I can tell you," Elizabeth heard as she drifted back to sleep.

----=[]o[]=----

"Justin's been going mad with guilt; he's terribly sorry. He came to see you once, but he ran out as soon as he saw the state you were in," Padma told her. She had had visitors in and out of the room all day, and was beginning to feel tired.

Elizabeth sighed. "Tell him I'm fine, would you? Madam Pomfrey says I'll be out of here before the end of the week."

"That's a relief," said Lisa. "We were so worried! It was terrible to watch!"

Elizabeth started to laugh, but broke off quickly when it hurt. "It was pretty terrible to experience on my end, too."

"Jeez Lisa; you have absolutely no tact, do you?" asked Padma, shaking he head, though she was smiling slightly.

"Sorry!"

"Elizabeth gave a small smile. "It's fine, Lisa. What have I missed since I've been in here?"

Lisa face lit up, and she and Padma began to babble at the same time. "The first task! It was fanta-!"

"- should have seen it!"

"-edric and Harry did brilliantly. Krum of course-"

"-is broom, and got the egg."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and relaxed, letting then chatter on about the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"All right, that's enough, you girls. You're going make her permanently deaf if you keep screaming in her ear like that, Padma."

Lisa and Padma laughed. "Hey, Terry."

Terry moved over to the other side of the bed as Elizabeth opened her eyes. "Feeling any better?" he asked.

"We're going to go, okay Liz, but we'll come back and see you later, alright?"

Elizabeth gave a small wave to Padma and Lisa as they left and then looked to Terry. "Much, _much_ better. Still sore, but my skin doesn't feel like it's on fire anymore, and it doesn't sting when I move even the slightest bit."

Terry tisked. "I can't _believe_ Justin. I can tell you, I gave him a good talking too after the incident."

Elizabeth groaned. "Teeerrry. It was just an accident. These things happen. Don't take it out on him."

Terry scowled. "You could have died! If Snape hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened. He conjured buckets of water and poured them all over you, and then he ran you all the way up here!" Terry chuckled. "I don't think anyone has ever seen Snape run before."

"I suppose I'll have to thank him now, won't I?"

"Ah well, don't worry about it 'til you get out of here." Terry shook his head. "I just _cannot_ believe the bad luck you have Lizzie. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were cursed!"

Elizabeth frowned and looked away. "That's just stupid."

"I know it's unlikely, but I've never known anyone to be as unlucky as you are, and I don't mean tripping now and then or missing a scheduled portkey, you've been knocked out about ten times and broken a dozen bones falling all the way down the stairs in the Quidditch stands and been covered in acidic potion and-"

"Alright! I get the point, Terry," she snapped, glaring up at the ceiling.

Terry held up is hands. "Sorry, sorry. Madam Pomfrey said not to antagonise you or get you worked up."

Elizabeth huffed. "I'm not getting worked up!"

"Yes you are; I can tell."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, about the only thing that didn't hurt to move.

----=[]o[]=----

The moment she was released from the infirmary, with a cream she was to apply every night, and as soon as she had graciously thanked Snape, who waved her out of his office with a slightly less malevolent than usual sneer, she headed straight for the library and the section that dealt with Defence Against the Dark Arts.

She didn't quite believe it, perhaps because she simply didn't want to, but if she _was_ in fact cursed, then she was going to find out all she could about it. After all, every curse had a counter-curse, and if she could, she would gladly do without the falling down stairs and everything else that always seemed to happen to her.

She let out a long, low breath as she stared at the rows and rows of books that dealt with curses. Truthfully, she had no idea where she should start looking. "This would be so much easier with some help," she murmured. She clicked her tongue. "But..." She sighed. She couldn't ask her friends to help her; she didn't want them to really think she was cursed, especially since Terry had mentioned it on more than one occasion, even if he wasn't being entirely serious.

She picked a book at random and opened it to the contents page. She shut it immediately; it wasn't the right sort of book, more about spells with an immediate effect than long lasting curses.

A book called _'A Compendium of Curses'_ caught her eye and she took it down. It was nearly curfew, so she checked it out with Madam Pince and took it back to her dormitory, burying it beneath her robes in her drawers so none of the girls would see it.

----=[]o[]=----

"I still can't believe there's no Quidditch!" groaned Terry. "Just because _four_ students are competing in that Tri-Wizard Tournament shouldn't mean that _everyone else_ has to miss out."

"Yeah!" agreed Ryan loudly. "I wanted to try out for the team this year!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "How long are the two of you going to harp on about this?"

"It's just not fa-ir Liz," groaned Terry. "Quidditch is my reason for living!"

"Well why don't you use your brains and organise something yourselves. I heard some of the Hufflepuffs complaining yesterday and I know the Slytherins will want to play still and the Gryffindors, too. Organise an unofficial Tournament."

Terry jumped up. "That's a great idea! Come on, we have to go and tell the rest of the team it's still on!"

Elizabeth groaned. "I'm working, Terry. I'm sure you can tell everyone on your own."

"Fine!" Terry bounded off to inform everyone while Elizabeth finished her homework.

----=[]o[]=----

The next time she had a free minute, she pulled out the book on curses she had borrowed from the library.

All she really had to go on was the fact that, according to the letter, the curse was intended to be fatal and that her mother was the one who had cast it. Both points ruled out a fair few curses, but still left far too many for her liking.

Deciding to make a list of curses she should look at, she scanned the contents page and wrote a list of likely types. She perused the book for a half hour, mentally crossing off more curses that didn't fit, though there were still many it could be.

ooo

One of their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes provided a ray of hope for her in her quest to find what, if anything, she was cursed with.

Mad Eye Moody was teaching them about cursed objects, and had mentioned a spell which would reveal whether an object was cursed.

Elizabeth raised her hand high, and his magical eye swivelled towards her. She almost sneered; it was really quite disgusting, and more than a bit off-putting, but she managed not to.

"Question, lassie?" he asked, stomping over to her desk, his wooden leg making a dull thud with every step he took.

"I was wondering about the spell you mentioned, which reveals cursed objects. Does it work on people?"

Moody clapped his hands. "A valid question." He turned to the class as a whole and began to pace in front of them. "The spell will work on both object and people, but it does not reveal all curses. There are some particularly sneaky curses that require specific revealing spells," he barked. "That's why you must always maintain CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

...

As soon as the class had ended, Elizabeth found an empty classroom and locked the door. Her heart was beating in her chest as she practiced the revealing spell several times. She desperately hoped it would reveal a curse; if she knew what it was, she was sure she would be more than capable of finding the relevant counter-curse and removing it.

After a few practices, she grew impatient and pointed the wand at herself. If the spell worked, her wand should momentarily emit a light, the colour of which varied depending on the type of curse.

Taking one last deep breath, she incanted. "Revelos!"

She waited with baited breath for several seconds before disappointment crashed down on her. She gave a great sigh and tried again, in case she had simply done it wrong, but she had no luck.

Either she just had _really_ bad luck, or the curse was one of the more 'sneaky' ones that needed a specific revealing spell. The one Moody had taught them was only a general one.

----=[]o[]=----

As Terry had put himself in charge of the unofficial Quidditch Tournament, he had scheduled the first match to be played by Ravenclaw, against Slytherin. All the house teams were playing, although as Harry and Cedric were both in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams were using their reserve seekers.

They took to the pitch in the early hours of one Saturday morning with few spectators. The teams had agreed to keep it quiet, as they were not allowed to have matches without permission.

Marcus Flint had broken into Madam Hooch's office and taken the Quidditch set, and Lee Jordan from Gryffindor took the flying instructor's place of releasing the balls and being the umpire.

Lee blew the whistle and the players took to the air, Elizabeth and the other two chasers immediately taking their positions and taking charge of the quaffle. The sped down the field, passing it back and forth and dodging bludgers sent their way by Slytherin's beaters.

They scored first, and then once more before Slytherin scored, which was a testament to their team's skill; the Slytherin's all had Nimbus 2001s, much faster than the brooms on the Ravenclaw team.

After that however, Slytherin pulled into the lead, though Ravenclaw maintained a close score.

Then disaster struck.

A bludger hit by a Ravenclaw beater zoomed in front of her, directed at a Slytherin player, Montague. It missed the boy but got the tail end of his broom and it spun wildly. Elizabeth was going too fast to stop, and as if in slow motion, she saw Montague and his broom swinging back towards her, too fast to avoid.

Their eyes widened as they met, and then Elizabeth was jerked of her broom by the handle of Montague broom, which was impaled right below her heart.

She heard Montague swear violently as he descended quickly to the ground, which was luckily only a few metres. They landed rather hard, Elizabeth collapsing to her knees and bringing her hands up to the handle that was speared through her.

She choked, tasting blood as a dozen players landed around her, dismounting their brooms and running to help.

Surprisingly, there wasn't that much blood. She groaned as the pain began to set in, and then reached around to the middle of her back.

She started to panic when she felt the slippery handle had gone all the way through. In front of her, Montague had stopped swearing and had collapsed unconscious on the ground. She stared disdainfully for a quarter of a second before a fresh wave of pain hit her.

Vaguely, she could hear people talking at her, and she simply nodded dazedly, not really understanding what they were saying.

All of a sudden, she felt a great wrench and the broom handle was pulled out of her. Her breathing was coming in quick, uneven gasps as she was hauled up by two people who began to drag her out of the stadium.

She _wished_ she would pass out; the pain was unbearable, and she could feel the front of her robes rapidly growing wet with blood, the wind making it cold.

The two students were carrying her quickly through the school now, and she dimly registered dozens of students, staring wide-eyed at them as they passed.

Her eyelids were beginning to flutter closed when they entered the hospital wing, earning a loud gasp from madam Pomfrey.

She felt herself lowered onto a bed and heard a babble of voices and saw blurred shapes moving about her.

Stabs of pain shot through her as someone began prodding at her stomach, and then a vial was put to her lips. She gurgled and spluttered, feeling most of the potion run down past her ears and her neck. A small bit she managed to swallow though, and a few moments later she fell into a blissful sleep.

ooo

When she woke, she found thick white bandages wrapped tightly around her ribs and Terry sleeping in a chair beside her bed. She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her and she grunted, falling back and causing Terry to stir.

Madam Pomfrey sixth sense of waking patients had her come running to Elizabeth's bedside with a pain relief potion, which she gladly swallowed.

"You do get in the wars, don't you?" tutted the nurse, wiping potion from Elizabeth's chin that had run out of her mouth, much to her disgust.

"You were _very_ lucky this time, dear. That broom handle very nearly crushed your spine, and if it had I'm not entirely sure I could have fixed you completely. Quite apart from that you nearly died from the trauma and blood loss."

The witch shook her head and moved away, muttering darkly about Quidditch.

Elizabeth turned her head to look at Terry.

"And I though a year without a real Quidditch Tournament was going to be dull," he said grimly.

Elizabeth gave a small smile. "At least Montague keeps his broom nicely; no splinters," she joked weakly.

Terry scowled. "It isn't funny, Lizzie."

----=[]o[]=----

For the first Christmas ever, Elizabeth remained at Hogwarts. She missed her friends there and sent them all extra long letters, but she didn't regret not going back for a second.

Unfortunately, the school wasn't much quieter than usual, given that most students were staying for the Yule Ball on Christmas Day. Elizabeth herself wasn't particularly keen to go; she'd never been one for dressing up. She liked to be neat, but was not the kind of girl who liked to get frocked up and do her hair formally and wear jewellery. Even if she were like that, she didn't have the means. Robes were the closest things to a dress she had ever owned and the only piece of jewellery she had was her mother's necklace, and she wasn't about to go flashing the Philosopher's Stone about now that she knew it was that.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be going out of their way to include her in the event, with Padma and Lisa constantly nattering on about what colour dress they were going to buy and who they were going with and how they were doing their hair.

The worst person came in the form of Terry, a few days after the Yule Ball was announced. He cornered her when she entered the Common Room, stopping her as closed it behind her.

"Hey Lizzie."

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow at the rose he was holding. "Terry."

"Elizabeth Bishop," he said formally. "Would you do me the honour of attending the Yule Ball with me?"

He extended the flower as she widened her eyes, freezing at his words. She blushed furiously. "What?" she squeaked.

Terry shifted nervously, quickly losing his confident face. "I asked if you want to... go to the ball with me?"

Elizabeth swallowed and eyed the rose again, and Terry held it out to her again.

"Er..."

Behind Terry, Anthony was nodding his head emphatically.

"Umm..."

She looked around for help and saw Lisa and Padma nodding their heads as well, eyebrows raised and huge cheesy grins on their faces. She looked back at Terry.

"Fine," she squeaked. She snatched the rose out of his hand and walked away quickly, feeling extremely flustered and embarrassed. What was wrong with her? She was normally so composed! She certainly hadn't expected anyone to ask her to the Ball, let alone Terry. They were friends, usually, but sometimes they had arguments and went over a week without talking. They often disagreed, and he was _always_ teasing her about something or other.

She shook her head and headed for Padma and Lisa, but when she saw them giggling and looking between her and Terry, she diverted her course towards the dormitory, slamming the door loudly and leaving a very confused, though happy Terry staring after her.

ooo

The weekend before the Ball, the students were allowed out to Hogsmeade to get anything they needed for the event. Elizabeth reluctantly let Lisa, Padma and her sister Parvati and _her _friend Lavender drag her into a dress shop in Hogsmeade, scowling the whole time. The three girls gushed over dresses while Elizabeth watched on.

"You do know I have no money to speak of, don't you?" she asked Padma stiffly as the Indian girl held yet another dress in front of Elizabeth to see how it looked.

"This is a Christmas present from me and Lisa, so stop whining Liz," said Padma, exchanging the dress for another and nodding. "Yes, darker colours for you, I think. Your skin is too pale for white or yellow, and it wouldn't suit your brown hair either, I don't think. What do you think of this dark blue one?"

Elizabeth gazed at it dubiously. Wizarding dresses were not like muggle dresses. They were similar, but styled more like robes. The one Padma was holding up was a horrid ruffled thing, with far too many sequins than looked nice, although the colour – a deep royal blue – was nice.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and smiled apologetically at Padma, who sighed, though she didn't appear too put off by the fact that she had to keep looking. "Well, let's keep looking, shall we?" she asked, a little too cheerfully for Elizabeth's liking.

They perused the shop for a good while before Elizabeth's gaze fell on the perfect dress. It was more like traditional dress robes than a muggle dress. It had a stiff collar that opened widely at the front and a hem that ran around the shoulders, forming in a leaf shape at the neck and travelling all the way down to the bottom of the robe. The material was a deep, rich green with satiny vines and leaves embroidered into it. The hem and collar were also satiny, accented nicely against the teal material.

"Ooh, that's nice!" exclaimed Parvati, fingering the light material. "You should get it; it'll look lovely with your hair."

"Well?" asked Padma, and Elizabeth saw her and Lisa looking at her expectantly.

"It's not too expensive?" she asked unsurely.

Lisa stepped forward and examined the price tag, "Six galleons, seven sickles." She shrugged. We're going halves, so I'd say it's an alright price."

Padma grinned and grabbed it out of Lisa's hands, dragging the two of them over to the counter to pay. "Finally! You are _so _hard to please, Lizzie. Such high standards!"

Gold exchanged hands and the package was bundled into her arms by an excited Padma. The four girls had once again resumed chatting about hair accessories and such.

They made their way back out into the street. "Oh, Lizzie! And you can wear that pretty necklace with the red stone!"

"I didn't bring it with me this year," she lied quickly. "I left it behind. After all, I hardly ever wear it."

"That doesn't matter, I don't think red and gold would suit that dress, anyway," stated Lavender. "It would clash. Maybe something silver?" She giggled. "Unless that's too Slytherin for you? It would look nice though."

Elizabeth smiled blandly. She really didn't understand the rivalry between Gryffindors and Slytherins. "The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, you know."

The girls' conversation cut off awkwardly. "Oh," said Lavender, crinkling her nose and exchanging a look with Parvati. Elizabeth ignored it and the conversation started again, but Elizabeth's mind drifted. Something silver _would_ be nice.

ooo

After lunch on Christmas Day, Elizabeth retreated with the other girls to prepare for the ball. She really didn't know why they insisted on spending so much time getting ready. It was only going to take her twenty minutes. Shower, dress. Simple. There was no point in drawing it out and turning such tedious routines into a long and drawn out process, in her opinion.

Padma had lent her a nice pair of silver shoes, though Elizabeth didn't really see the point. The robe was so long that no one would know if she wore no shoes at all, or bright orange socks, or bricks on her feet.

When it came to her hair however, Elizabeth found herself at a loss. She rarely wore it out, usually pulling it into a ponytail, and when she did wear it out, it was when she was simply too lazy to brush it and left it lying messily over her shoulders.

She pulled the brush through it, pondering for a while before she was rescued by Padma.

"I have the _perfect_ idea for your hair, Lizzie. Terry will be _drooling_."

Elizabeth blushed as Padma giggled.

Fifteen minutes later, Padma finished with her hair, and Elizabeth had to admit that it looked quite nice. It was slightly curled so that it fell in waves, pulled back with a big clip on each side except for a few thin tendrils which hung down around the sides of her face.

When the other two had finally finished doing themselves up, they descended the stairs to the common room.

Elizabeth blushed and bit her lip nervously when she saw Terry lounging against the wall near the portrait hole with Anthony, who was Lisa's date.

Terry grinned cheekily at her as she approached.

"Ladies, you look lovely!" said Anthony in a gentlemanly voice, causing Padma and Lisa to giggle.

Terry held his arm out and Elizabeth tentatively hooked her arm in his, giving a small smile. Together they all made their way down to the Great Hall.

When the others walked into the Hall, Terry pulled her back.

"Lizzie, I have something for you."

She looked at him curiously. "What is it?"

Terry put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a simple silver bracelet. "To match your shoes. Lisa said you didn't have anything."

Elizabeth was speechless for a moment. Besides the dress, no one had ever given her anything, and this was somehow different.

"Urrr..."

"Hold your hand out," said Terry, and she obeyed wordlessly, dangling her arm in front of him.

He circled it around her wrist and connected the ends, which magically melded together. She thought it looked too big, but as she watched it shrunk until it fit nicely around her wrist.

"Come on," said Terry, tugging her towards the Hall. "Let's go have fun."

----=[]o[]=----

The Second Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament rolled around and the spectators gathered in huge stands erected at the edge of the Black Lake. Elizabeth watched as the four contestants took to the water, Harry stuffing something into his mouth before tumbling into the water and disappearing along with the other contestants.

The Sports Minister, Ludo Bagman, provided a brief commentary of the methods each contestant appeared to have used, then recalled to everyone the events of the First Task and then began to speculate on what was occurring beneath the turbulent surface of the lake.

Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth ran a frustrated hand through her hair and sighed. "This is extremely dull," she murmured. It was true; she was quite sure whatever was going on beneath the water was quite exciting, but they could see nothing beneath the choppy waves of the Black lake. Besides that, she was cold; her coat was cheap and thin, hardly acceptable winter clothing at all.

"How can you say that?" gasped Lisa. "Just imagine what's going on down there! It's sooo exciting!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and stood, ignoring the calls of her friends and moved to the top row of seats that was largely unfilled. It was more sheltered here too, and she huddled against the back wall of the stands.

She withdrew the Compendium of Curses from her bag. Now that she had narrowed it down to familial curses, there were a lot less to look at, and thankfully they were all contained in one neat little chapter, so she didn't have to go pouring through multiple books of flipping from chapter to chapter.

----=[]o[]=----

The next day, Elizabeth visited the library to find another book on curses. There were too many curses too choose from the compendium; curses for bad luck; Malice Felicis, Devil's Clover Curse, Potur's Bane, curses to cause harm; Blackwell's Mark, Fesferi, Foe's Consequence, and curses to cause death; Motter Merte, Mordesco, Mordred's Gaze. They were just a few of many, and she couldn't possibly learn the counter curse to all of them. She simply didn't have the time.

In addition to that, the Compendium didn't have the incantation or counters for any of the curses, as most of them were considered Dark Magic. She could see the reasoning behind not having the incantation, but surely the counter curse should be included?

She scanned the shelves before settling on a small book that was almost hidden between two much thicker ones. Simply named '_The Detection of Curses_,' it looked promising, and she tugged it out from its spot.

Finding a dark corner of the library, she began to read. There was an introduction on the first few pages and then the book detailed spells which would alert the caster to the type of curse, whether it be a luck curse, death curse, suffering curse, familial curse, or a pain curse, among others.

She spent the afternoon practicing the incantation that would tell if she was afflicted with a curse for bad luck. It was difficult, with a tricky wand movement, and she still hadn't mastered it by the time she left the library.

It took her a few days, but she managed to get it right eventually, and cast it on herself. According to the book, if she was touched by a curse of bad luck, the wand tip would ignite, much like the Revelo spell Moody had taught them.

She waited expectantly for a moment before deflating. Nothing.

It took her another week to work the spell for revealing Death Curses, and when she did she was not as surprised as she had though someone would be to find that the spell confirmed she was under the effects of a Death Curse.

Remembering her mother's words form the letter, she also learned the spell for revealing familial curses, and found it was also one of those.

She slammed shut the book she had been using and ran from the library, shaking with the anger that was coursing unbridled through her body.

----=[]o[]=----

"We're your friends, Liz. Tell me what's wrong!" insisted Lisa, a hand clasped around Elizabeth's wrist.

"There's nothing to tell, alright? I just want to be left alone for a while," she replied. She had been in a bad mood since she had confirmed she was cursed, mentally damning her mother over and over again and wondering what had been wrong with the stupid woman.

She had isolated herself from her classmates, not engaging in conversation and only giving short, cold answers to questions.

Lisa withdrew, pursing her lips and standing with her hands on her hips. "People aren't going to put up with this forever, Lizzie. I suggest you get over whatever is making you so miserable that you feel the need to inflict your bad mood on everyone else."

With that she spun on the heel and Elizabeth directed a sneer at her back a she stalked back to Padma.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth had compiled a list of Death Curses with grim determination, ensuring they were only ones that could be cast by family members. There were only twenty or so curses from the Compendium for her to choose from now, and she painstakingly began to learn the revealing spell for the first one, Mordesco. It took her over a week before she cast it correctly; she was usually an extremely fast learner, but the specific revealing spells were unusually difficult.

The results of the spell indicated she was not touched by the Mordesco curse, and she began to learn the revealing spell for the next curse on her list.

----=[]o[]=----

A few weeks later, she had successfully tested for twelve of the curses on her list, but no luck so far. She was on to one now called Motter Merde. She was getting much faster at learning the revealing spells, as they all shared similar wand movements.

She incanted and performed the wand movement, finishing by pointing the wand towards herself. Her eyes widened as her wand tip ignited with a bright green light. The flare lengthened and twined around her before flashing out.

She was still for a moment as the realisation sunk in that she had found _the_ curse. Motter Merte.

Shaking herself, she dove for the Compendium of Curses, running her finger down the contents page until she came to the right curse. She flipped wildly through the book until she came to page which describes Motter Merte, and began to read.

_Motter Merte is a Death Curse that can only be placed by a mother on her own child._

_The curse is intended to kill through luck and chance, but the magic of the curse will not kill an innocent child. It will not take full effect until the child is no longer a child, but an adult._

The description certainly seemed to fit her circumstances, and she realised this must be the reason her luck had taken a major downturn this year. Terry had told her that if you could see thestrals then you were no longer considered innocent, and since they had witnessed the murder in Knockturn Alley, the curse had truly begun to take effect. She read on.

_Motter Merte was classed as Dark Magic and made illegal in the late 1400's, though it was already obscure and very rarely used. The only witch who was accused of using the curse after it was outlawed was Frieda Duffield who, between the years of 1812 and 1822 cast the curse on five of her daughters._

_There is no known counter curse for Motter Merte, but it can be lifted by the will of the caster or by the caster's death._

----=[]o[]=----

Her mood, which had began to lift once more, plummeted sharply when she finally determined the curse she was under.

She went about in a foul mood, scowling darkly at anyone and anything that irked her; Peeves, giggling students, teacher's chalk screeching on the blackboard, people smiling.

She knew it was unfair to subject her friends to her increasingly depressed attitude, so she secluded herself as often as possible in the records room of the school searching for her mother's name.

She only knew her mother's first and middle names, but she could find neither of those names anywhere near the same time her father had been at the school. It was at this time that her mind began to wander and she began to suspect that perhaps her mother had actually known of and used the Philosopher's Stone.

After all, Flamel had told her the Seventh Stone caused paranoia, and her mother had most certainly been crazy; at least, in Elizabeth's opinion anyone who cursed their child for no good reason was insane.

With steely resolve, she combed through years prior to the ones she had already looked in. Her mother's name was extremely uncommon, and she only came across a few in over a hundred years of records, but none with a matching middle name.

Of course, her friends eventually figured out where she was spending all her time.

"Is this why you've been in a perpetually bad mood?" asked Terry quietly. "Are you still upset about your family?"

"Of course I'm not," she scoffed, brushing the question aside with a wave of her hand. "I don't care about _them_."

"Then why are you spending so much time looking through old school records if not to find some family member."

"It's really nothing for you to worry about, Terry. You can tell the others that as well."

Terry narrowed his eyes and sat down opposite her. "It is something for us to worry about when our friend is so clearly spiralling into despair."

Elizabeth snorted and glared at him. "I am _not_ 'spiralling into despair,' Terry. I'm just busy. Excuse me if I'm more focussed on school work than playing stupid games like Exploding Snap."

"What you're doing isn't schoolwork."

"But it is more important than games."

"And friends?"

"And friends."

Terry gave a sigh of resignation. "Whatever, Elizabeth. When you decide to be happy again, maybe we'll still be waiting for you."

She finally looked up from her work, frowning at Terry's retreating back. He _never_ called her Elizabeth, at least not like _that, _and she had to admit, it stung.

Perhaps her words had been a bit harsh, and she knew she had been neglecting her friends for a while now, but she _had_ to find her mother. Her 'accidents' were getting more and more lethal, and if she didn't find her mother soon, she wouldn't need friends at all, because she would be dead.

Letting out a breath of frustration, she rested her head on her hands, her dark hair cascading in front of her. She resolved to speak more civilly to people, especially her friends, and maybe even return to spending time with them in the evenings.

----=[]o[]=----

It was the afternoon of the Third Task, and students from all three schools were buzzing with excitement, each sure the champion from their own school would be the winner.

Everyone was gathered in the stands, which had been moved to a new location, and Ludo Bagman was again keeping up a constant stream of words, this time describing the tricks, spells, challenges and puzzles that awaited the contestants in the maze of hedges.

As in the Second Task, the spectators could see nothing but the occasional misfired spell and sometimes strange mists which swirled and drifted through the maze. The sun set and the night fell still. The people in the stands were unusually quiet as if struck by the absolute stillness of the grounds. Not a breath of wind disturbed the trees.

For over an hour, Elizabeth's gaze roved over the air above the maze, following the path of a golden mist that floated back and forth.

Elizabeth frowned and squinted towards the middle of the maze. For a second she was sure she had seen a bright blue flare of light, but there was nothing now.

She rolled her head around, stretching and listening to the conversation of the other fourth year Ravenclaws around her.

All of a sudden, an eerily cold wind blew across her skin, raising the hair on her neck and arms. A shiver ran up her spine as if some ghostly finger had run down her body.

"Did you feel that?" she whispered.

"Feel what?" asked Lisa, reclining next to her.

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "Nothing."

She pulled her cloak around her, but the grounds were still unmoving, and she wondered where the wind had come from, or if she had just imagined it.

ooo

Nearly a full hour later, a figure appeared at the edge of the maze and Elizabeth saw that it was Harry, clutching a limp body to him. She watched as he collapsed, yelling. She couldn't hear what he said, but he appeared to be quite distressed and teachers and Tournament officials began to hurry towards him.

The body he was holding slipped from his grasp as Harry fell to his knees, and Elizabeth realised Cedric must have been hurt by something in the maze.

Students began to get to their feet, straining to see through the darkness to what was going on down by the maze.

Harry was led away by the Defence Professor, leaving the teachers to kneel over Cedric's body. Madam Pomfrey rushed up, a kit in her hands, but she was waved away by Dumbledore.

"What's happened?" asked Padma, craning her neck to see over a group of boys in front of them.

"Why aren't they doing anything?" questioned Anthony, a concerned look on his face.

Questions began erupting from the lips of students in the stands, into loud conversation as everyone tried to talk over each other.

Then, he whisper travelled rapidly up through the stands, like a sigh of wind travelling up towards them and leaving a cold empty feeling in its wake, suffocating the conversation that had come before it: "Cedric's dead... Cedric Diggory is dead!"

It submerged them like a wave coming in, plunging them into a cold, surreal dream, stealing their words and pulling them away.

Chaos erupted in the stands.

----=[]o[]=----

In the days following the Third Task and leading up to the holidays there was a palpable fear hanging over the heads of many of the students and staff, one Elizabeth knew she didn't fully understand. For the first time, she heard the name Voldemort, whispered reluctantly by a friend in answer to her questions.

The library provided for her a trove of information on Voldemort, who was usually called You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, names she found extremely irritating and ridiculous.

She was sickened by the things she read, about how he had killed hundreds of muggles and muggleborns and people of mixed blood. She shivered, and wondered what lay in store.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth stared at the wall with impatience and frustration, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. That book was the only connection she had to her mother's side of the family, the only chance she had of finding out more about the woman. No matter what she did, the wall refused to open for her.

She was once again back at the orphanage, in her oven of a room, sweltering and trying to retrieve the book she had hidden. In retrospect it had been a stupid idea, hiding the book in a place she had never seen before. Now that she knew she had to find her mother, she needed the book. She had a feeling it would tell her all she needed to know about her family.

And she _must_ find her mother, and make her lift the curse, because she was _not_ going to die, not when there was something she could do about it.

----=[]o[]=----

A reader suggested I flesh out the chapters a bit, and I agree, so I have added some extra 'stuff' in this one. I might also go back when I'm finished and do that to the previous chapters as well. I think it needed it anyway, or it would have been shorter than the others.

I will hopefully update in about a week or so.

Please review and tell me what you think so far, especially if you have suggestions for things you might like to see in the story.

You'll all be as excited as I am to know there were a record number of reviewers for the last chapter; that is, there were two.

So THANKS HEAPS to The Fat General and Junky.


	5. Finding Tom Riddle

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling

**----=[5]=----**

**Finding Tom Riddle**

**The Cupboard Of Requirement**

**Making Connections**

_Elizabeth G. Bishop._ Elizabeth labelled her new school bag and then began to stack her scroll of parchment and quills into it. The old bag she had been using had finally given up, and she had happily written to her Head of House, who had given her a few galleons to buy a new one on the first Hogsmeade weekend. All of her school things were paid for by the school, from a reserve for disadvantaged students.

She hated being labelled 'disadvantaged,' hated what it implied about her life. She stuffed her school robes into the bag and closed it with. It was a bit overfull, but it was the only thing she had to carry all of her school things in. She would have to see Flitwick about getting a trunk.

She swung the bag over her shoulder and left the room, giving a last hateful glance to the wall that still held her book hostage. In a last, desperate attempt to retrieve the book she had cast an Alohamora on the wall, and received nothing but an owl carrying a warning message from the Ministry of Magic.

She stepped out the front doors of the orphanage and set off at a brisk pace, her mood lightening the further she walked from the dreary children's home.

She was stepping out onto the road when a car overtook a slow travelling one, going too fast and mounting the pavement on her side of the road, its horn blaring. She jumped back just in time and gave the driver the finger, scowling. When the car had sped out of sight, she smoothed down her clothes and hair and continued on her way.

She was in enough danger from the curse without idiots like that going out of their way to endanger people.

She had calmed down by the time she reached the train station.

Elizabeth changed into her robes immediately, slipping on the prefect's badge she had received with her book lists. It hadn't been much of a surprise, in her opinion. She was by far the most responsible of the girls in her house year, the most mature, and the most intelligent.

Still, she had been extremely satisfied to find that those things were recognised by the teachers.

Terry had written to inform her that Anthony Goldstein had gotten the other badge, and she felt slightly disappointed. Terry had been hoping he would get it, and she had been looking forward to working with him.

**----=[]o[]=----**

The train ride was pleasant, spent chatting first with the other prefects and the Head Boy and Girl, and then with her Ravenclaw friends in another compartment.

They arrived at Hogwarts, Elizabeth breathing in deeply as she stepped into the Entrance Hall.

After the Sorting, Dumbledore introduced the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. They had a new one every year, and she knew that most of the students' learning was suffering because of it.

The new professor, Dolores Umbridge, was instantly unlikeable. The toady woman interrupted Dumbledore's speech to give a dry and extremely boring speech that hinted heavily at the need for more Ministry influence in the school.

Finally they were dismissed, and she and Anthony herded the new first years together, leading them up to the Tower.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Dolores Umbridge proved herself very quickly to be an extremely substandard teacher. Elizabeth was the sort of person who learned better by doing her own reading, but even she could not stand the work they were set. They weren't even allowed to touch their wands in the Ministry witch's class.

Padma came to her in excitement one day telling her that Harry Potter was starting some sort of club for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Me and Lisa are joining. I really think it'll be fun," she said, chewing on the end of her quill.

Elizabeth was in two minds about it. She already did her own extra work, she didn't need another student (who, in her opinion, really wasn't anything special when it came to school work) teaching her. On the other hand, he _was_ the best in their year at defence, and though she could perform a good number of defensive spells, actually duelling and practicing with other people would be good.

"Alright," she decided, and Padma gave a whoop of excitement.

"It's going to be sooo good. I bet Harry's a much better teacher than that Umbridge toad."

"Let's hope so," she replied. "I can't believe Dumbledore hired her. Is she actually a professor, or is that just some title she's assigned herself?"

Padma laughed. "Who knows? I'll admit I haven't seen evidence of any qualifications."

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth's curse made itself known once more in their sixth week during a Herbology lesson. As fifth years, they were now learning in Greenhouse Three, which housed some of the more deadly and dangerous plants.

They were repotting Jumbly Trees when across from her, Neville tripped and staggered with a heavy pot full of soil. He lost his battle against gravity and the pot sailed through the air, striking a glass case which held a vine covered in tiny pink flowers with a crash.

The glass shattered, and the plant sprung to life.

The vine snaked out, targeting the nearest threat which was, apparently, her. The vine wrapped tightly around her ankle and began winding its way up her leg, the barbs digging painfully into her flesh.

It yanked her to the ground, causing her wand to be flung from her hand. She knew the spell that would make the plant retreat, but her wand was out of her reach.

In panic, she flung her outstretched hand towards it as it snaked around her other leg and yelled out the incantation. A wave of blue light pulsed out from her hand, and when it hit the vine, frost appeared on its little pink flowers. The plant jerked back, rapidly recoiling back into its broken glass case.

Elizabeth grunted and pulled herself up onto her elbows as students came to her aid.

"Someone's gone to get Sprout!" said Padma, hugging her tightly. "I'm so glad you're alright!"

Lisa handed her wand to her. "That was a good spell. Accidental magic to the rescue, eh?" She laughed weakly, sounding supremely relieved. "It all happened so fast!"

"Yeah," muttered Elizabeth in reply. A few students were busy repairing the glass case, trapping the plant safely inside once more.

Elizabeth tried to get up then, and found she could not move her legs. An odd numbness was spreading up through her thighs and into her hips, leaving behind a tingling sensation in her legs.

"I can't move my legs," she whispered, the panic setting in once again. Her legs were covered with hundreds of small bubbles of blood where the barbs on the vine had pricked her.

Terry knelt beside her and pinched her leg. "You don't feel that?"

She shook her head and bit her lip, turning pleading eyes on Terry. "Why can't I feel my legs?" she asked, the panic creeping into her voice.

"Don't worry, Professor Sprout's on her way back now. She'll know what to do. I'm sure it's nothing." He put a comforting arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, trying to calm her breathing.

"What's going on then?" came Professor Sprout's harried voice a few moments later, and then "Oh dear!" when she saw Elizabeth.

"Shoo, shoo." She waved the surrounding students away, kneeling beside Elizabeth. "Clinging Gravillea," she muttered. "Not to worry, let's just get you up to the hospital wing."

Elizabeth was levitated up through the grounds and to the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout conferred quietly for a minute before tending to her.

Madam Pomfrey gave her a potion to drink while Sprout reassured Elizabeth.

"I shall have to have our Potion's Master brew an antidote for the poison that the Clinging Gravillea releases. If we act with haste there will hopefully be no permanent damage."

"Hopefully?" sputtered Elizabeth. "You mean I could be like this forever?!"

Sprout patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Now, now, let's just wait and see what happens. With all likelihood, you'll be just fine."

Elizabeth snorted. All likelihood suggested she was going to die at a very young age. She laid back in her bed, staring worriedly for the rest of the day at her useless legs.

Professor Snape appeared that evening with a goblet of sweet smelling purple potion. "I do believe this is the second time my services have been required because of some misfortune you have encountered, Miss Bishop."

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in embarrassment. "Yes sir."

Snape handed her the goblet and she drank deeply. It was the nicest tasting potion she had ever had.

"Thank you sir."

"Do try to stay out of trouble. I am a busy man."

Snape swept away, and as he left she felt a strange feeling run through her legs. With bated breath, she reached down and ran a finger across one knee. She couldn't be sure, but she though she may have felt the faintest brush against her skin.

Feeling slightly relieved and much more hopeful, she fell asleep.

**----=[]o[]=----**

The paralysis disappeared completely within a few weeks, leaving Elizabeth immensely relieved. She could think of nothing worse than spending the rest of her life unable to walk, even if the curse did finish her off soon.

**----=[]o[]=----**

The next week Elizabeth, Terry, Padma, Lisa and Anthony headed to the first defence club meeting.

Anthony led the way and they arrived at a door opposite a statue of Barnabas the Barmy.

Elizabeth frowned. "There isn't usually a door here, is there?"

"It's called the Room of Requirement. It only appears when you need it," replied Anthony. "That's what Hermione Granger told me."

During the meeting, fake Galleons were passed around for everyone, which would magically change to reflect the date of the next meeting.

By the end of it, Elizabeth thought the club was a good idea. Though she didn't learn much that particular lesson, she had to admit that other people needed it, and that Harry was a good teacher.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth trudged slowly through the snow around the far side of the Black Lake. It was early December and the Black Lake was almost entirely covered in ice, except for the centre which was almost pitch black in the dying light, a sharp contrast the white snow around her.

Elizabeth loved to walk around the lake; it was quiet and peaceful, with no chattering and giggling students and nothing to destroy her mood.

Or so she though.

She jumped over a log that was in her way and slipped in the snow, coming to her knees and then sliding down a small mound of snow.

A sharp, clean crack split the air and before she realised what it was, she was plunging downwards into frigid water.

She struggled to swim up, but her shoes and heavy robes soaked through and weighed her down.

A slow current slowly but surely tugged her away from where she had torpedoed under the ice, and she clawed frantically at the water in an attempt to reach the hole.

It was a wasted effort, the sluggish current drawing her deeper into a black abyss.

Just when she thought she couldn't hold her breath any longer, when she thought she was going to suck that icy cold water into her lungs, something thick and muscular curled around her midriff.

It startled her and made her inhale anyway, dragging the freezing water down her throat and stabbing at her lungs like a thousand icy needles.

Suddenly she was being drug rapidly through the water, tug, tug, tug, in a steady rhythm.

To her shock, she was flung onto the snowy edge of the lake, choking and spluttering and coughing up water. Elizabeth crawled on her hands and knees to the nearest tree, water still dribbling from her mouth and hacking coughs tearing at her lungs.

She collapsed against the tree, hugging her knees to her chest. _She hated her mother_.

**----=[]o[]=----**

The next day she turned up early to the DA and found she was the first one there. The door was not where it should be, and she had no idea how to make it appear. As it was, it appeared there was a blank stretch of stone wall.

After a few minutes of impatiently waiting, she saw Harry heading down the corridor.

"Hey, Liz. Good to see you back."

She jerked her chin at the vacant expanse of wall. "Where's the door?"

"You have to ask for what you want." Harry began to pace back and forth in front of her.

"I just ask for somewhere we can't be found, and the room appears. It'll give you whatever you ask for, like if you want somewhere to be alone, or somewhere to hide something. You just walk three times past, thinking about what you want, and on the third time the door will appear."

He stopped talking, clearly concentrating on what he wanted, and as he had said, on his third pass the familiar door materialised.

She followed him in and helped set up the room as other students began to file in,

**----=[]o[]=----**

In potions a few days before the end of the term, Elizabeth, who usually worked alone, was assigned a partner.

"Miss Bulstrode, you may partner with Miss Bishop for the lesson."

"What are you doing in this class for?" Elizabeth asked the Slytherin when she sidled up to Elizabeth's bench.

The Slytherin gazed at her coolly before grunting a reply. "Missed mine."

They began preparing the ingredients for their Shrinking Solution, and once that was done they began with the brewing.

Thinks were going smoothly until Millicent tried to add the powdered mandrake roots before the desiccated newts.

"You can't do that!" said Elizabeth, knocking the other girl's hand aside before she could tip the small bowl in.

The Slytherin scowled. "And why not?"

"Because the instructions clearly say the newts have to go in first!"

Millicent gauged the situation for a second before replying in an obviously argumentative tone, "I think this way will work better." She moved to tip the powder in again.

"Don't be ridiculous! We're following the instructions."

They began arguing, Elizabeth trying to reason with the Slytherin, who she had began to suspect was slightly lacking in intelligence and more interested in causing a fuss. Then, before she could stop her, the Slytherin darted forward and tipped the contents of the bowl in, giving Elizabeth a smugly satisfied look.

"Are you a complete idiot!?" hissed Elizabeth, her hands on her hips and a fierce glare on her face.

"Detention, Miss Bishop, and ten points from Ravenclaw. Get to work, both of you."

Snape had swooped down upon them, and without asking for an explanation, sided with his own house.

Elizabeth scowled and pursed her lips in anger, but kept her mouth closed. If it was any other teacher, she might argue, but Snape would just take more points.

Instead, she shot a filthy look at Millicent and lifted the cauldron completely onto her side of the desk, refusing to let the dense Slytherin girl partake further in the making of the potion.

She managed to correct Millicent's mistake, though it took a while, and the potion was not as good as it could have been.

She filled a vial and labelled it with her name only, vanishing the remaining contents out of spite. "Start cleaning up, would you?" she said, before taking the vial to Snape for marking.

Millicent gave her a horrible look when she returned to the bench, and Elizabeth grinned like a Cheshire cat, a move that, to her satisfaction, greatly infuriated the other girl.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Quidditch was fast becoming a hazard for Elizabeth. She had once enjoyed it, but now it seemed like every time she took to the air there was some misfortune awaiting her.

She seemed to attract bludgers like a magnet, and other players too.

She had already broken two bones and been knocked off her broom from a great height during one practice, and it wasn't even Christmas yet.

Perhaps she should make this year her last playing the sport, if she could not find her mother.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth silently cursed Snape for assigning her detention with Filch. She couldn't help but dislike the grizzled old man; with his lank grey hair and bad teeth, he reminded her far too much of Greg. If she didn't know better, she'd say that they were brothers; they were that alike in looks and personality.

It was currently 11:30, and Filch had promised her she would be there all night if she didn't polish to a shine every trophy in the trophy room, without using magic.

Luckily, trophy polishing was a common punishment and most already had a good shine, so it wasn't as big a job as it had sounded to her at first. Still, it was tedious and her elbow was beginning to ache from the repetitive buffing motions.

She was three quarters of the way finished when she saw something that made the detention a whole lot more interesting.

There, in the dim light of the lantern, she saw a name engraved in to a trophy; an award for Special Services to the school. "It can't be..." she whispered, leaning so close to the glass case that she bumped her nose on it.

She rubbed the smudge away with the rag and slid open the glass, taking the trophy in her hands.

She sunk to the floor, peering closer in the dim light. It was an award for special services to the school, and the name of the recipient was one she recognised instantly. Tom Riddle.

She silently thanked Snape for assigning her detention with Filch.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth was excited; she was sure she had found the boy who had shared her room all those years ago, who had scrawled his name into the wall.

After classes a few days later, she disappeared beneath the library, searching once more through old yearbooks. She knew from the award one of the years when he had been at the orphanage and she only had to flick through a few yearbooks until she found a class photo of Tom Riddle.

It was the graduation photo for Slytherin house, and he was smack bang in the middle of the top row, his dark eyes staring directly into the camera, a secret smile curving his lips.

Finally, after so many years, she had a name to put to the face. Tom Marvolo Riddle was a handsome teenager with a slightly haughty look about him. He had neat, dark brown hair and a strong jaw. She thought there might be something familiar about him, but when she looked harder, she could not see what it was. It was possible she had seen an old photograph of him somewhere in the orphanage, if he was indeed the same boy.

There was a simple way to find out.

The next day was the first day of the Christmas holidays, and Elizabeth had decided that she now had to return to the orphanage. In a spare moment after she had packed and before the students were ushered out to the carriages that would take them to the train, Elizabeth dashed up to the records room and hastily flipped through the files for Tom Riddle's enrolment details.

She had just located them when she heard the call for students to move to the lawns in front of the castle, and she folded it carefully, slipping it into her bag before hurrying to the front of the school.

**----=[]o[]=----**

If she had counted correctly, Tom Riddle had been at the orphanage around fifty years ago. She didn't know how many years he had been there, so she dragged out several boxes which covered the range of possible years.

She had chosen wisely; though it took a little longer than when she had looked for her own certificate, due to the fading of the print, she found Tom Riddle's name in the second box she had pulled out. She pulled the certificate out, being careful not to let it tear.

She shook it off, coughing at the dust that came off of it. It had suffered a fair bit from mould and bugs, but she could still make out what the faded writing said. She was sure this must be the same person; it was too much of a coincidence not to be.

She read the certificate, and her breath caught in her throat.

"That... can't be right," she murmured.

She yanked her bag to her and roughly pulled open the clasps, delving inside to find the bundle of parchment that was Tom Riddle's enrolment forms.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_Date of birth: 31__st__ December 1926_

_Parents: Merope Guinevere Riddle nee Gaunt, Tom Riddle._

_Address: St. Patrick's Orphanage, London._

The information matched, and Elizabeth stared blankly at the words for an age before she moved again.

She took the birth certificate; it was only disintegrating down here, and she doubted he would be applying for a job anytime soon.

Elizabeth had a lot of thinking to do. Back in her room, she laid on her bed, looking up at the names carved into the wall, her fingers tracing the etchings. She still had the knife that had done it, it never rusted or tarnished, and she thought it might be pure silver. It was intricately designed and the blade never dulled. It was one of her most treasured possessions.

Slowly, she traced over the lettering in the wall, her mind ticking over.

_O... M... R... I...._

**----=[]o[]=----**

Back at school, Elizabeth visited the library and descended into the archives, returning to the old yearbooks. She quickly found the one which contained Tom Riddle's graduation photo and paged through until she found it, her eyes roaming over the now obviously familiar jaw line, aloof expression and dark, almost black, eyes.

"Hello Liz," came a voice from above her.

She looked up to see Hermione standing above her.

"Hello Hermione. I haven't talked to you for a while. How is everything?" she asked politely, all the while thinking, '_can't you just go away? I'm busyyyy.' _

Much to her dismay, Hermione sat down next to her and leaned over to see what she was looking at.

"Oh! What are you looking at that for?" The Gryffindor peered closely at the photo. "It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

Elizabeth looked up in confusion. "What's hard to believe?"

"That someone who looks so... charming and... normal, could turn out like he did." Hermione gave a small shiver as Elizabeth frowned.

"Turn out like what?"

Hermione looked up, her mouth a small 'O' of surprise. "Oh, sorry! I assumed you knew. I thought you must be doing research. That's Tom Riddle." Hermione pointed to the boy Elizabeth had been staring at, and she began to wonder what on Earth Hermione could mean. What did Hermione know about a student who had attended the school some fifty years ago?

Elizabeth looked at Hermione expectantly. "What do you mean by how he turned out? Do you know him?"

Hermione blinked. "Yes, of course!" She shook her head, smiling. "Sorry, I suppose not many people actually know what he used to look like, or even what his name was before." Hermione paused before continuing. "He's the boy who became Lord Voldemort."

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth sat huddled in her dormitory, the blanket from her bed pulled tightly around her as she sat on the wide stone window ledge, her forehead leaning on the glass and her eyes fixed blankly on some distant thing that even she couldn't see.

She could not get her head around the fact that _Tom Riddle_ was Lord Voldemort. How could the charismatic teenage boy have turned into such a monster? Perhaps Hermione was mistaken. After all, neither Tom nor Riddle were particularly uncommon names. But no, she knew she was right.

For so long she had felt some indescribable kinship with the boy Tom Riddle whose childhood had always appeared to mirror her own. She was sure he was the one who had drawn all the magical pictures in the cupboard, and the lumos spell that lit it up had been a comfort to her many times. She was sure he had done that, and not just for himself.

He had carved instructions into the walls so that other children could do it too. How could someone that would do something like that turn into someone like Lord Voldemort? What had happened to make him turn out bad?

She knew a higher percentage of orphans tended to turn out bad than in the general population, but becoming a Dark Lord was far, far worse than most. She hadn't ever been loved or cared for particularly well, and she _hated_ Margot and Greg, but it didn't make her hate anyone who was a muggle.

Perhaps it was a matter of power. Perhaps more of them would take advantage of it if they had the power that Tom Riddle possessed.

**----=[]o[]=----**

In an attempt to forget the information that was now plaguing her, she threw herself into all sorts of activities, Quidditch, her essays, and spending time with her friends. Any time she began to think about Tom Riddle, she immediately found something to occupy her time.

She began to develop a closer relationship with her friends, which for the first time she really began to see as a good thing. She and Tom Riddle may come from similar backgrounds, but she wasn't going to end up like him.

**----=[]o[]==----**

She was desperate to find her mother and have the curse lifted. She knew her mother was still alive, or the curse would no longer be on her; it was just a matter of tracking her down.

On their next Hogsmeade weekend, Elizabeth went by herself and spent the entire day in the Owlery, looking through every directory they had in search of her mother's name, but she returned to the castle defeated.

For all she knew her mother had remarried and had a completely different name altogether.

She had no clue as to how to proceed, and she saw a hopeless search stretched out in front of her.

**----=[]o[]=----**

That week, Elizabeth made what she thought would be her last trip to the school's record room. This time, she found what she was looking for straight away. Her own enrolment forms were no different to anyone else's, written in the same script on the same thick parchment and stuffed in just another wooden cabinet.

She stared down at her details, her jaw tense as she read over her parent's names. She did not return the forms to their drawer; instead, she pushed them into her bag and returned to her dormitory, where she buried them at the bottom of her drawer.

**---=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth did excellently in her OWLS. She hadn't received her results; that would take some time, but she knew she had. After all, she was a Ravenclaw. She was expecting she would come very near the top in her year – if not the top, - an achievement she felt proud of.

The more she learned, the stronger she felt her magic becoming and the easier it became to perform harder spells. It often frustrated her to watch the slower students struggling to learn things she picked up instantly, and she often caught herself sneering in disdain at their attempts, a habit she was trying to break. She wasn't an unkind person.

Today she would be leaving Hogwarts with the other students and returning to the orphanage. This was the worst part of her year, leaving Hogwarts to go back to the children's home, but she reminded herself that she had things to do there.

**----=[]o[]=----**

At some stage in the last ten years, Greg and Margot had begun keeping computer records of the children at the orphanage in addition to the paper records kept in the basement.

There was only one computer, locked in the administration office and the kids were strictly banned from using it.

One night, she crept to the office and, with a hairpin, she jiggled the old lock. She had no idea what she was doing, but after ten minutes she heard a click, and when she tried the handle it turned easily.

She crept in, shutting the door quietly behind her and being careful not to knock anything over, she sat down at the computer.

She pressed the power button, causing the computer whirred to life, and Elizabeth prayed that neither Greg nor Margot heard it. If they did, she knew they would be furious.

She was glad her muggle primary school had taught them computers, or she would have no idea what she was doing.

When the machine had booted up, she opened the search box and typed in her name. Several minutes later, the search ended, listing a couple of documents.

_Delete_.

_Delete._

_Delete._

The files disappeared, the digital copy of her birth certificate, medical history and school records sent to the recycle bin. She had the hard copy of her birth certificate, she had never been seriously ill, and so neither her medical history or school records were important.

Closing the screen, she clicked on the icon for the recycle bin and emptied it. Then, she did another search for her name, which returned no results.

Satisfied that that would be enough, Elizabeth shut the computer down and crept back to her room.

**----=[]o[]=----**

It was the day before Elizabeth was to return to Hogwarts for her sixth year when she hit upon a bright idea.

She had once again been staring at the blank stretch of wall across from her bed when it occurred to her that the cupboard had only appeared when she had needed it – much like the Room of Requirement.

If Tom had known about the Room of Requirement, might he have enchanted a cupboard in his room here, to protect his things?

She jumped up eagerly, trying to remember what she had done to open the cupboard last time. She recalled pacing back and forth in front of it, in the same way one did to make the Room's door appear, though she couldn't remember exactly what she had been thinking.

She had wanted somewhere to hide her book, somewhere safe...

Excitement coursing through her, she began to pace, repeating the mantra in her head and gazing expectantly at the wall.

_I want the place where things are hidden. The place where things are kept safe._

The pressure in her chest built until on her third pass she heard a soft _click_, the cupboard opening a tiny inch, and she expelled her held breath in a victorious yell.

She opened the cupboard and found she was now tall enough to see in without standing on anything.

There was the book! She pulled it out and let out a breath of relief at having it in her hands again. She had not realised until this moment just how much she had wanted the book in her possession again.

Elizabeth ran her hands over the green leather that was stamped with intriguing patterns. The book must be centuries old; she realised that now. Remembering their Care of Magical Creatures textbook from third year, she tilted the book slightly and saw a curving line stamped deeply into the leather running the way down the spine. Two small emerald stones glinted at the top end.

Her breath held in anticipation, she ran her finger slowly along the twisting line, from one end to the other.

The book fell open.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Two more chapters to go, and this part of story will be over. Chapter seven is all planned out, but I'm a tiny bit stuck on what to put in the next one to fill it out. Given that, it will probably be quite short and posted soon.

Please review and tell me what you think, especially if there is some way you think the story can be improved.

Thanks to Junky for reviewing the last chapter. Much appreciated : )


	6. My Favourite Pair Of Shoes

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**----=[6]=---- **

**My Favourite Pair Of Shoes**

**Rules**

**Last resort**

"Hey Lizzie," said a voice she didn't recognise, and she turned, her jaw dropping in surprise. It was Terry, but he had grown a great deal since she had seen him last and was now a good deal taller than her. He had filled out too, his shoulders appearing much bulkier than she remembered.

She tore her eyes off of him as she felt a blush spreading across her face and saw Ryan, who stood beside him, grinning happily.

"My favourite pair of shoes!" she beamed, flinging an arm around each of their necks.

Terry chuckled and hugged her back. "Good to see you too. How was your break?"

She shrugged, smiling happily. "Uneventful. How are you, Ryan?" She turned to the younger boy. "I hope your brother hasn't been treating you too badly."

"Nah. Listen guys, I'll see you after the feast alright? I'm gonna go catch up with Brad."

Ryan skittered away to find his friend, dragging his trunk behind him.

"Shall we find a compartment?" suggested Terry, and Elizabeth nodded, hefting her bag onto her shoulder and grabbing the other end of Terry's trunk to help lift onto the train.

They found an empty compartment quickly and Terry hefted his trunk up into the overhead compartment.

"Quidditch is going to be _excellent_ this year," he commented, taking the seat across from her. "We'll need some new team members; we've lost a chaser and a beater. Ryan's going to try out for a position."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Actually, you've lost two chasers."

It took a moment before her comment registered with Terry. "Wha- wait! You mean you're dropping out of the team? You can't do that!"

"And why not?" she asked, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"Because," exploded Terry. "You just _can't!_ Why would you even want to?"

Elizabeth nearly laughed at his outburst, but she maintained her composure in case he erupted further. "I just think it's best that I concentrate on my studies at the moment. We're NEWT students now; it's going to be a lot harder this year."

"Lizzie!" groaned Terry in an agonised voice. "You're the smartest witch in our year; you're not going to have any trouble keeping up your marks. Besides, you need to have fun sometimes, too."

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's not just that; you know how many times I got hurt playing Quidditch last year, and my luck only seems to be getting worse. I just think it's time to stop, while I still have all my faculties intact." She smiled, trying to make a joke out of it.

Terry seemed to take her seriously though, and the argument actually seemed to sway him.

"Don't worry, though," she assured him. "I'll still come and watch you all practice."

**----=[]o[]=----**

She now felt extremely restricted in regards to the avenues she could pursue in search of her mother.

Over the holiday she had done an internet search at the nearest library for her mother, but as she had expected, no results were returned.

Elizabeth was quite sure her mother was still in the wizarding world; she simply couldn't imagine anyone who knew about magic turning away from it.

She began to think long and hard about how to proceed.

**---=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth drew the curtains around her bed and performed a lumos. She pulled the leather bound book from under her pillow and set it upon her lap, running her fingers over the cover before running her finger down the wiggly etching on the spine and letting it fall open.

This was the first chance she had really had to take a look at it, and she was immensely interested in what she might find within its pages.

The first page was blank, the second bearing only the ancestral family name written in a beautiful curling script that snaked over the page with multiple flourishes. She traced it with her finger before turning to the next page.

The next two pages were painted with the image of a tree, but it was only very pale. In the foreground, written in a deep black ink were hundreds of names.

Unlike most family trees, which generally spread downward and outward as the family grew, hers was a distorted diamond shape, spreading from the founder and then shrinking as dozens of witches and wizards died childless.

The ancestral name died out after seven generations when a wizard name Adictus fathered only two daughters, Scarla and Merditha. She followed the lines down through half a dozen more name changes until she came to her own name, the last one in a lone, straggly branch of the tree that went back several generations before it split.

She was slightly disappointed to find her mother had had no children since Elizabeth, though she supposed it shouldn't surprise her.

She poured over the family tree, reading every name on it before she finally closed the heavy book and went to sleep.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Every chance she got, Elizabeth found herself pouring over her family book. It was chock full of interesting things. Her family had a rich history, and the book detailed the life and achievements of nearly every family member.

The book seemed to have been written by a good many authors over the years, each one ensuring that the details of their generation were recorded. The handwriting changed every now and then, though each author had excellent penmanship, the writing always neat and elegant. She was pleased to find that several scripts resembled her own, and marvelled at the fact that such things were hereditary.

Several charms and potions she had heard of seemed to have been invented by long dead relatives, their study and development of their respective magics documented in the thick pages of the book.

It was a shame that the family was all but gone; such brilliance lost from the world.

At one point, Elizabeth flipped through the book until she came to blank pages, and found on the last one her name written. It appeared that the book automatically added a new chapter whenever a child was born, or perhaps her name was written there because she was the person currently in possession of the book.

She had done nothing of merit yet, but she was only young and she hoped that one day she might be able to fill pages with words about her life.

Another section that interested her was one that came just after the family tree. It was a list of rules by which the family was to abide. Elizabeth recalled what Terry had said in their second year; about how some of the old pureblood families denounced children who did not fulfil certain criteria.

It appeared that her family was no different, and she poured over the rules that dictated whether one was considered worthy or not.

_One must attain a significant level of education. Should one fail to do so, one will not be entitled to receive an inheritance, though the inheritance can be passed on to one's children if they are to gain a significant level of education._

**----=[]o[]=----**

"So, Lizzie."

Elizabeth looked up from her assignment to see Terry leaning casually against a bookshelf, his hands in his pockets and his legs crossed at the ankles. She raised an eyebrow. "So what, Terry?"

"Want to go out with me?"

Against her will, a shy grin spread over her face, and she felt her cheeks redden.

"Alright," she replied and Terry's face split into an ecstatic grin.

**----=[]o[]=----**

_One must not be indebted or dependent on a muggle; to do so is a dishonour to the family name and while one is in such a position, one cannot attain one's inheritance._

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth walked down the main street of Hogsmeade with Terry. It was their first 'date' and she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Usually, she came with the girls from her house and merely listened to their conversation, only having input when directly asked a question.

Now however, there were only two of them, and if there was to be a conversation, then she was going to have to be a part of it.

She felt extremely awkward and had no idea what to say. Thankfully, Terry seemed to know exactly what to do and kept up a fairly constant stream of conversation so that she only had to make the occasional remark, which suited her just fine.

They turned down a small lane that was far less crowded. She recognised it as a lane she had travelled down on her way to visit the jeweller, Dimitri. She remembered there was a cafe down the a little further, and she suggested they go there.

Terry agreed and they headed towards the destination. To her alarm, halfway there Terry tentatively slipped his hand into hers. Except for the occasional friendly hug when she saw her friends after the holidays, physical contact with others was not something Elizabeth was used to and the move made Elizabeth feel subconscious and far out of her depth.

She was tense as they walked along; she wanted nothing more than to yank her sweating hand out of Terry's grasp, but he seemed blithely unaware and was chatting happily as they walked, seemingly reassured that holding her hand was an acceptable move.

She was relieved when they arrived at the cafe, and she pulled her hand from his, pointing out a table. They took seats and both ordered drinks, Elizabeth keeping her hands firmly out of his reach by hiding them in her lap.

**----=[]o[]=----**

_One may not receive an inheritance if one is to engage in marital relations with one of impure blood._

**----=[]o[]=----**

Over the next few weeks, Elizabeth tried to learn to be comfortable with being closer to Terry.

Things weren't moving too fast, for which she was glad. She and Terry still had the same old arguments they always had, so there were some weeks where she barely talked to him for days on end. In a way she was glad; when they were talking, they were spending all of their time together, and it could be a bit stifling.

One day after about a month of dating, Terry pulled her into a quiet courtyard and wrapped her in a close embrace, and to Elizabeth's surprise it wasn't an entirely foreign feeling anymore. It was actually quite pleasant.

**----=[]o[]=----**

The end of term was nearing when Elizabeth's worst accident yet occurred. She was going up one of the staircases when she tripped on the top step, banging her knee hard on the sharp edge of the stair.

She let out a sharp gasp at the pain and with a frustrated cry picked herself up and stepped off of the stair, turning around to pick up her books. All would have been well were it not for a stone that jutted up a bare centimetre above the rest.

Her foot caught on it and her weak knee gave way.

The staircase began to move at that moment, and she wobbled wildly on the edge.

She gave a surprised gasp as her balance tipped and she began to fall, her arms windmilling in a desperate attempt to find some purchase. She found none, and began to plummet towards the hard ground.

The last thing Elizabeth saw was the stone floor rapidly approaching.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth woke up to the familiar sights and smells of the hospital wing, remembering in a shocking rush how she had ended up here this time. The memory of the floor rushing up at her caused a strangled gasp to escape her, and there was a sudden movement to the side of her bed.

"Lizzie!"

"Terry," she croaked, relieved that someone was there. She tried to turn her head, but a sharp pain at the base of her neck made her remain still.

"Don't move! Madam Pomfrey's coming now."

She was; Elizabeth could hear the familiar clock of her heels on the stone floor and moments later the medi-witch was holding a vial to her lips. The potion was not one she had ever had before.

"What's wrong with me," whispered Elizabeth, because she just didn't feel _right_ at all.

"You had quite a fall-"

"Yes, I remember thank you," snapped Elizabeth, immediately regretting it. The witch however, seemed not to have noticed her rudeness, and continued on in the same simple tone.

"You've done quite a bit of damage, I'm afraid, and you won't be able to move for at least ten days, I should say. You broke your neck when you fell. The bad news is that we don't know if you'll regain full movement."

Elizabeth didn't know what to say, so she simply closed her eyes and ignored everything, focussing solely on _not _letting the tears that burned the back of her throat fall.

This was far worse that the paralysis she had suffered when the Clinging Gravillea had attacked her. This time, there was no sensation whatsoever; no strange tingling to let her know her body was actually _there_.

An hour later, she heard the medi-witch order Terry to leave. Elizabeth had not known it, but he had been sitting the whole time with her hand in his,

Terry laid a soft kiss on her forehead, brushing her cheek softly with his thumb. Suddenly she wished she could reach out and hold him and kiss him properly. They hadn't yet; Terry seemed to understand her hesitancy to get too close, and had kept his distance in that regard, though he did often kiss her cheek goodnight.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, anger coursing through her inanimate body as he left the infirmary. Her luck was going to run out, and she would be dead, if she didn't find her mother. But she had searched through the muggle directories and the wizarding directories, and found no trace. She was at a loss for what to do next.

She knew she needed help, needed someone who was in a better position to find out what she needed.

As soon as she regained the ability to actually _move, _then she would act.

**----=[]o[]=----**

_One may not receive an inheritance if one is not of pure blood, except if one is the last heir in a line and there are no other lines. Should a pureblood heir be born thereafter, the inheritance will revert to the one of pure blood._

**----=[]o[]=----**

Terry came to get her from the hospital wing when Madam Pomfrey finally released her. She still did not have all the feeling in her legs back, and though she was a little unsteady on her feet she could walk well enough and she didn't want to be in the hospital wing any longer.

Instead of returning straight to the Common Room, Terry took her out through the Entrance Hall and down the grassy slopes in front of the school, her hand firmly in his grasp.

They found a quiet spot beside the lake, sheltered by a tree behind them and bushes and rocks to their sides.

They sat together without talking, she leaning against his chest and his arm around her.

"You're quiet," murmured Terry after a while, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her waist as they gazed out over the placid waters of the Black Lake.

"Just thinking," she relied softly.

"Mm? What about?"

She shrugged lightly and turned her face up to his. "Nothing important."

She pressed her lips against his lightly, and he bought his other hand up to cup her face. She was pleased to realise that being so close to another person no longer caused her to feel insecure or unsettled or strange. Now, being held by Terry was familiar, and... nice.

**----=[]o[]=----**

Elizabeth stepped out of the shadows, startling the approaching figure. "Flint. Let's talk."

**----=[]o[]=----**

_One may have their inheritance stripped from them should they fail to abide by the rules set forth in this book. Inheritance may be reinstated at such a time as one returns to the standards deemed acceptable._

**----=[]o[]=----**

It was Saturday night, and she was tramping though a dark forest after allowing Flint to side-along apparate her there.

Gradually they came upon a small cluster of people, one of whom Elizabeth recognised.

"Bishop! What on Earth are you doing here?" asked Snape, an inscrutable look on his face.

"I wish to speak with the Dark Lord," she replied tonelessly, before eyeing his Death Eater robes and adding, "I never believed the rumours."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Perhaps it is wise, then, to determine your own answers instead of relying on the inane ramblings of idiot friends. What, may I ask, do you wish to speak to the Dark Lord for?" Elizabeth scowled at his sarcastic tone.

"It's really nothing to do with you, sir."

"I warn you, then," whispered Snape in a deadly voice, "Turn back now, Miss Bishop, for if you proceed, I fear you will not return to the castle alive."

Her blood ran cold at his words, but she gave no outward sign that she had heard, not answering or turning to look at him. _If I turn back, I will be dead._

They began to walk and presently they came upon a clearing lit brightly by the moon. Dark, robe-clad figures were gathered in a circle, spaces left here and there for people yet to come.

Flint jerked her to a halt just outside of the circle. "Stay behind me and don't move until I tell you."

She nodded wordlessly, chafing at his tone but doing as he said.

Eventually the circle was filled but for one space, and the clearing became utterly silent. When no one had spoken for several minutes, a tall figure materialised out of the air, conjured a high backed chair that was almost a throne, and settled himself in it, staring coldly around the circle with a raking gaze. The moment he lowered himself below the level of the others, the circle dropped as one to their knees, and Elizabeth quickly followed suit, though she did not bow her head like the others did.

Elizabeth was struck by his eyes, which burned a vivid red in his impossibly pale face. He sat regally, looking down upon his followers and it was a while before he spoke.

"Mr. Flint, I see you have a visitor hiding behind you. Pray tell, who is this?"

Elizabeth was surprise; she did not think he had seen her; certainly, his eyes had not met hers.

Flint shuffled forward. "My Lord, her name is Elizabeth Bishop. A mudblood. Sixth year Gryffindor. She insisted on meeting you. She swears it is her desire to serve you."

Liz rolled her eyes at Flint's lie, trying not to let her nervousness show.

"Indeed," murmured Voldemort, running a brief eye over her and then fixing Flint with his blood red gaze. When he spoke, his voice was like ice. "Tell me, Marcus. If an army of aurors swore their allegiance to me, would you bring them, too? Crucio."

Liz jerked at the beam of red light that collided with Flint, her breathing quickening as she heard his pained screams. The curse was brief, but she was in on doubt that the intended effect had been had. Ignoring the whimpering boy who scrambled backwards to his place in the circle, Voldemort turned his crimson eyes on her.

She swallowed, undeniably nervous surrounded as she was by faceless, black robed Death Eaters and the most evil of wizards in front of her. _I must do this, _she reminded herself, and squared her shoulders.

"Is this true? You, a muggleborn and friend of Harry Potter wish to serve me?"

"No. I have no wish to serve you." She said it quickly, but surely. She wanted no misunderstandings here, and she thought too that Voldemort would have little patience for her. Whispers sprang up around her.

"Silence!" barked Voldemort, and all noise stopped. "Is that so? Then what reason have you for desiring to speak with me? Has someone sent you with a message, perhaps?"

"I er -"She swallowed nervously once again, the words catching in her throat. "I need help," she finished weakly, cursing the hairs that were raised on the back of her neck and her arms. She was not someone easily scared, but standing completely defenceless as she was brought to the surface some instinctual and primitive sense of fear.

The wizard laughed, as if enjoying some funny joke. "You request the help of Lord Voldemort?" He laughed again, harshly, this time joined in by some of the surrounding Death Eaters. She wondered briefly how often he referred to himself in the third person.

"Yes, I do," she whispered, unsure how to act in the face of his amusement.

The man broke off his laughter abruptly, and the Death Eaters quickly followed suit at his menacing glare. "You are brave, to ask such a thing of me, but alas, I do not _help_ others, much less muggleborn school students who have little, if nothing, to offer me. It was a mistake for you to come here."

He withdrew his wand.

All at once, she felt as if all the Death Eaters surrounding her had moved in, though she hadn't seen them move and knew she was just giving in to the fear that crawled over her skin. "No, wait! You must listen to me!"

Voldemort's nostrils flared in anger. "How dare you presume to tell me what I must do!" he hissed.

"Perhaps I do have something to offer you. Information you might find -" she pause a brief second, contemplating a suitable word, "Interesting."

"Information, really?" he sneered. "Not a minute ago, you were adamant that you had no desire to serve me, and now you claim to have information that will assist me?"

Liz took a deep breath. "I have no idea if it will help you. In fact, I sincerely hope it does not, though I know there are ways it may. What I said is that it may interest you."

Mutters ran around the circle at the way she spoke to him, but she held his gaze as if it did not scare her.

"I tire of your attitude," he said slowly, and she sensed danger.

"Will you listen to my request?"

It was a moment before he replied. "I will hear your information first. If I deem it, as you say, interesting, then perhaps I will," he smirked cruelly, "help you."

The Death Eaters chuckled. "I do however, doubt it." He smirked evilly. "You are lucky I have few pressing matters to deal with tonight, or you would be quite dead by now."

"I would prefer to talk privately, where your Death Eaters cannot hear us," she said. If she had to, she would reveal who she was, but she knew it would not be good for her if people found out.

"I'm sure it will be fine for you to talk here," he replied lazily, arrogantly. The way he spoke angered her; he was condescending to say the least. He obviously believed she had nothing of worth to offer.

"My information concerns you, your mother, and your inheritance." She paused and smirked. "Or lack thereof. Are you sure you wish others to hear this? Merope Gaunt is alive, I have no doubt you know this. But that is all you know."

She waited, and the clearing was deathly silent. She knew she had surprised Voldemort, for his look of arrogant dismissal had been replaced by a blank stare, and he blinked slowly.

It was as if everyone in the clearing held their breath in anticipation of his answer, for not a finger twitched or a chest moved.

After an interminable and agonising moment, he tilted his head, the blank look still on his face. Slowly he raised his hand off the arm of his throne, and she steeled herself. However, he merely raised it several centimetres and then dropped it. "You may speak," he said, and she realised he must have cast silencio around them.

She spoke quickly, hoping he would hear her out. "I seek my mother. When I was born she placed a Death Curse on me. Only she can lift it, willingly or by her death. I have done all I can on my own to find her. I'm quite sure your resources are far greater."

The glare returned to his face. "I do not wish to hear your plea! You will tell me what you know of _my_... _of Merope Gaunt_," he said, and he spat the word as if it tasted bad in his mouth. I told you already, if I had more pressing matters, you would be dead by now. If you continue to waste my time then I _will_ kill you."

He said it with easy contempt, and she knew he meant it. When she replied, her voice was as cold as his and her gaze unflinching. "And you will have killed the only remaining pureblood heir of Slytherin."

**----=[]o[]=----**

Well, the next chapter is the last chapter and I will hopefully post it within two weeks.

I would really appreciate any constructive criticism/ improvements/ suggestions or other comments you have about the story, so please review and tell me what you think.

Thanks to Trust and Junky for reviewing.

Apparently my summary isn't particularly good, so if anyone wants to write one for me, feel free to do so and I'll consider putting some or all of it as the summary.

I'm not really happy with this chapter _at all_; I think it needs a lot of work, but if I spent time planning it I'd always be planning and never writing, so I'm just posting and then going to come back when I've finished the story and worked out what I want to do to improve it. It's easier to see problems and such now when I've actually written it.


	7. Murder, child

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**----=[7]=----**

**Finding Merope Gaunt**

**A Family Affair**

**Murder, Child**

----=[]o[]=----

For the second time that night, she had rendered Voldemort speechless. This time, his eyes were wide, and his mouth moved as if he were struggling for words. Her heart galloped in her chest, and she felt something she had not expected, something she had not even considered, and it surprised, even scared her. She felt hope, an agonising impossible hope. She had never had a family, but now she was talking with a brother. _He cannot love._ The words reverberated in her mind. She couldn't remember where she had heard them, but that is what people said about him.

She swallowed back tears she had had no idea had been coming, and spoke. "You must have known, when your inheritance was stripped from you, that our mother had born another child, one whose blood was purer than your own? That is, if you read The Book."

Finally, after another silence, he spoke, and his voice was quiet, his words careful. "I did."

He looked at her then, and she realised it was the first time that night that he truly had. His eyes roamed her face, and she felt suddenly self-conscious.

This went on for a while until she shifted uncomfortably. "You look like her."

His voice was not unkind, nor insulting. He was merely stating a fact, and yet the words angered her.

She said nothing and kept her face impassive, but a small smirk played about his lips as if he knew what she was thinking.

His eyes roamed her face for another minute before he spoke again. "You wish me to kill Merope Gaunt?"

She noticed he did not use the word 'mother,' and agreed that it was not an apt name to describe her. "No."

He gave an amused smirk. "You wish to kill her yourself?"

Elizabeth averted her eyes for a second, but then faced him squarely, raising her chin high. "I intend to ask nicely first. If she refuses to lift the curse, I will consider it self defence."

"As simple as that?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow and quirking the side of his mouth.

"As simple as that," she repeated stoically.

"Murder, child, is rarely _as simple as that._" He paused to give an evil smirk. "Not for the first."

She clenched her jaw. "Do not call me child. I will do what I have to in order to save my life."

He inclined his head in agreement. "As well you should."

They each stared silently at the other for a moment before Elizabeth remembered they were surrounded by three dozen Death Eaters who were by now probably extremely curious as to why she was not yet dead.

"Are you going to help me?"

Again, it took his time in answering. Finally, he inclined his head. "I will."

Relief flooded through Elizabeth, and she couldn't help but give a small laugh as her fear left her and some hope returned to her.

Voldemort quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing to her, turning instead to a Death Eater and dropping the silencing spell. "Severus, if you would escort Miss Bishop back to Hogwarts. I will have no need of your services tonight."

Her potions professor stepped forward. "Of course, my Lord."

Snape stepped up to her and took her by the arm, pulling her away.

"Elizabeth." She turned back at the sound of her name. "Your wand."

Elizabeth walked back to him and took the proffered wand, giving silent thanks with her eyes. Voldemort's lips twitched in apparent amusement.

Snape spoke after several minutes of walking through the forest to the edge of the anti-apparition wards.

"You are exceedingly lucky, Miss Bishop."

Elizabeth paused a moment before softly answering, "More than you know."

Snape's eyes swept over her in a questioning gaze, but she said nothing more.

----=[]o[]=----

When she reached the common room, she found it empty and the fire burning low.

Unclasping her cloak, Elizabeth moved towards the staircase.

"Where have you been?"

Elizabeth started; she had thought there was no one there.

She turned to the voice and smiled warmly. "I felt like a bit of fresh air after dinner. It turned into a longer walk than I thought."

"No, don't get up," she said as Terry started to rise from the lounge. She walked over to the ring of chairs and lounges that were pulled close to the fire and settled down next to him.

She felt happier and freer tonight than she had in as long as she could remember, and she leaned into him, sliding a hand across his stomach and around his side.

His arm slipped around her, pulling her closer.

Terry rested his head comfortably on hers, but she disrupted the position to tilt her head up and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

Terry adjusted his position so he could reach her lips better. The kiss was deep and slow, and Elizabeth allowed Terry's hands to roam over her body for a while before she pulled back."It's late. Maybe we should go to bed."

Terry kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. "We could go together."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and pushed him away with a small smile. "Wishful thinking, Terry."

He gave an exaggerated sigh and stood, pulling her up with him. "Goodnight then, Lizzie."

----=[]o[]=----

The next morning at breakfast, Elizabeth looked up at the Head Table to see the headmaster looking at her over the rim of his goblet. When he saw her looking he gave a smile and returned to his breakfast. Elizabeth frowned, wondering why Dumbledore had been staring so avidly at her.

Her eyes flickered to Snape as a theory bloomed in her brain, and she met his black eyes. He was scowling darkly.

Elizabeth turned to her own food with a question tumbling around her mind.

----=[]o[]=----

It was the holidays before she heard anything from Voldemort. She had been growing increasingly restless as the time had passed, and when she received the owl she ripped it open with zeal.

She groaned when she found that it was a letter from Lisa, read it quickly and then scribbled a short reply, feeling thoroughly annoyed.

After dinner, Elizabeth returned to her room to finish her homework assignments.

"It has been a long time since I was in this room," came a quiet voice from behind her.

Elizabeth spun sharply, a nervous smile blooming on her face, despite the look she saw on his.

"I admit I was surprised to find that you have lived in the same place I did during my own childhood."

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's not that much of a stretch to believe our mother put us in the same orphanage."

"That is true."

"Mm, and they put all the new kids in this room, but I was the first since you were here that the room took a liking to."

A look of amusement seemed to come over Voldemort's face, though he did not smile. "Yes, I imagine you were."

"Did you curse the room? That's what everyone thinks. Well, not that you did it, but they think it's cursed."

"Something like that," murmured Tom, walking around the small room.

As he turned back towards her, the cupboard in the wall popped open. He opened it, and surprise crossed his face when he saw that it held her things.

"You found the cupboard," he stated.

Elizabeth nodded. "Quite by accident. I needed somewhere to hide some things."

"Yes, there is a room in the school very much like it. I modelled it upon that room."

Elizabeth nodded, recalling the Room of Requirement.

Voldemort pulled out the thick Book of Slytherin, a covetous look passing over his face. He caressed the cover with a long, thin finger.

Elizabeth had a sudden thought, and the question burst from her before she could stop herself.

"Do you want to kill me?"

He did not seem surprised by the question, not even looking up from the book.

"I will admit the thought has crossed my mind, many times even before you approached me."

Elizabeth felt a chill run through her.

"I could have all the treasures I once possessed, but were stripped from me when you were born. However..." Finally he looked up, his red eyes burning. "I am... a man of principal. You are a pureblood heir of Slytherin. That is not something I take lightly."

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. "That's a no, then?"

"For now." He looked back at the book. "Tell me, Elizabeth, are you a Parseltongue?"

"Er... I don't know. I've never talked to a snake before."

A satisfied expression appeared on Voldemort's face. "But you have just answered me."

"You were speaking... so I am a Parseltongue?"

Voldemort inclined his head. "A rare gift, but not surprising given your ancestry." He changed the subject abruptly with this next sentence. "Your father's parents, Matthew and Madeline Bishop live in a small town called Bannock's Break. I believe that is where we will begin our search for Merope Gaunt."

Elizabeth scowled. "I've spoken to them. They won't tell me much. I got the impression that they didn't know much about her."

"I have often found that politely asking is not always the best way to gather information," he replied shortly. "When did you speak to them?"

"At the end of my second year. They wanted nothing to do with me. Apparently they didn't like the fact that their son was with a muggle, and they thought I wasn't worthy enough for their family. That, and they didn't want to tarnish their son's memory," she said, bitter sarcasm entering her voice.

A dark look crossed Voldemort's face. "Pack your things."

Elizabeth frowned. "Why?"

"This place is not fit for an heir of Slytherin to live in. You will come with me."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You're taking me to _live_ with you?"

"My headquarters is currently located in the house of one of my loyal followers. You will be quite comfortable there."

Elizabeth paused, but moved into action when he said, "Now," in a dangerously icy voice.

She packed quickly, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Suddenly she stopped and turned back to him. "Can I call you Tom?"

He stiffened slightly, a frown appearing on his face.

"I'm not going to call you 'my Lord' or anything like that," she persisted, hoping he didn't pull his wand out and curse her. He certainly looked like he wanted to.

"Indeed, it does not seem... appropriate." He sneered in what looked like disgust "If you must. Hurry up." Elizabeth felt a stab of triumph and returned to packing her meagre possessions as he stormed out of the room.

----=[]o[]=----

They apparated to a lane, one side of which was lined with a tall, deep green hedge. Elizabeth followed Tom a few metres to a wrought iron gate which opened at Tom's command and they stepped past the hedge. A huge manor rose before them, the walls of white rock and the roof made of blue-grey shingles. It was magnificent, and Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat.

The grounds were covered in lush grass, and shady trees dotted the lawn. There was a fountain to one side, and there were what looked like albino peacocks strutting around it.

Tom did not spare the scenic views a glance, but Elizabeth took her time, only hurrying up when she heard him call her name impatiently.

Tom walked into the manor as if he owned it. "Greer!" His harsh voice echoed in the Entrance Chamber, followed by a pop as a house elf appeared in front of them.

Tom turned to Elizabeth and spoke. "Greer will show you to your room. I have matters to attend to." With that, he swept from the room.

Elizabeth glared after him and then followed the rag-clad elf up a wide staircase. The landing branched off in three different directions, and the left led her down the left one.

Her room was nice; big and quite opulent. A large bed sat in one corner, and a dresser in another. A lounge sat in front of a fireplace, which roared to life at a click of the elf's fingers.

Once the elf had left, Elizabeth explored the room for a few minutes before growing bored. She decided to have a look at the rest of the house, and stepped out into the quiet hallway. Back downstairs, she wandered into the first room she came across. It was a library, and quite an impressive one at that. There was an open area where shelves surrounded a reading area, and then towards the back there were more rows of shelves.

Suddenly a boy that Elizabeth recognised stepped out of the stacks, perusing a book. He was dressed in a simple white shirt and grey slacks, his robe hanging off his shoulders.

The boy stopped when he saw her and narrowed his eyes. "What are _you_ doing here? Bishop, isn't it?"

"Yes. It doesn't matter why I'm here." She wasn't sure she should mention that she was Voldemort's sister; something told her he would not be particularly pleased with her. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "I _live_ here, Bishop."

Elizabeth stared in surprise. "This is your house? Oh. Well, it's nice."

"Nice," repeated Malfoy, eyeing her critically.

Elizabeth turned at the sound of a door opening, and saw a woman step through the door she had just come through.

The woman had pale skin and black hair. Her eyes were heavily lidded and she raked Elizabeth with a sharp gaze, sneering in distaste. Suddenly, an unsettling grin filled her face. "Did you escape from the dungeons, little girl?" she asked with a cackle of delight.

Elizabeth was taken aback. "Dungeons? You're keeping people in the dungeons?"

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, but the woman narrowed her eyes and leapt forward, grabbing Elizabeth roughly by the arm.

"A muggle loose in the house. We shall see what my master has to say about that, shall we?" She gave another delighted laugh and yanked Elizabeth out of the library.

Elizabeth tugged at her arm, but the woman's fingernails dug sharply into her flesh.

They burst into an extravagant dining room and quite to Elizabeth's surprise, the woman threw her to the ground. Elizabeth blushed in embarrassment as the men and few women at the table turned to look at them.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" she hissed, picking herself up off the floor, only to have the woman hit her with a curse that made her legs collapse beneath her. Her knees hit the floor painfully hard, and she pulled out her wand. She didn't care that it was the holidays and she wasn't legally allowed to use magic; she would not be treated like this by a complete stranger.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the woman flying into the wall and her wand fell from her hand.

Elizabeth stood and was about to curse the woman again when Tom spoke. "Enough!" He came to stand beside her, looking down at the woman as she pulled herself to her feet.

Tom frowned at the Death Eater, but when he spoke, it was to Elizabeth. "I was expecting the elf to bring you, not one of my Death Eaters."

Elizabeth turned her angry glare on him. "I do not appreciate being treated like _this," _she hissed,pointing at the woman and tugging her shirt straight.

Murmurs ran around the table as she spoke and the woman's eyes widened.

"Master, I did not realise you - her clothes - I thought she was a mudbloo-"

"Do NOT!" hissed Tom, advancing on the woman. "Use that word!"

Tom turned back to her and his gaze raked over her jeans and T-shirt. "Narcissa," he said, turning to a fair-haired woman at the table. "Perhaps you would find suitable attire for Miss. Bishop."

The woman stood immediately and indicated for her to follow. Elizabeth cast one last glare at Tom and followed the woman out of the room. Narcissa took her up the stairs and into a bedroom that must have been her own.

She walked over to a beautiful antique cupboard, opening the door to reveal a multitude of fine robes on hangers.

The woman, who until then had not spoken to her suddenly turned with a small smile. "Do you have a preference for colour?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

Narcissa turned back to the wardrobe. "Pale blue, perhaps, and we shall be matching."

Elizabeth gave a shy smile and nodded. "Blue would be nice."

The blonde removed a robe and handed it to Elizabeth. It was light and the material smooth.

"There is a bathroom through there," said Narcissa, indicating a closed door on the other side of the room.

Elizabeth changed quickly and returned, holding the robe up a bit as she walked.

"A little long," murmured Narcissa, and she whispered a spell which caused the robe to grow shorter. "Perfect. Shall we?"

Elizabeth nodded and they left the room, heading back to the dining room.

"I don't think I've ever worn anything this nice before," she said softly as they walked, before adding, "Thank you."

Narcissa favoured her with another small smile before her face returned to the strained expression.

When they reached the dining room, only Tom, Malfoy and a man who must have been Malfoy's father remained.

They all stood when she and Narcissa entered the room and Elizabeth blushed at the formal manners. She told herself not to however, as it was clear that it was simply the way things were here.

"Lucius, this is the guest I was telling you about. She will be staying here for the remainder of her school break."

Malfoy's father bowed his head. "Of course, my Lord." Lucius nodded at her as she approached, holding out his hand to her. She took it and he bowed. "Miss Bishop. You have met my wife Narcissa, but this is my son, Draco."

Elizabeth gave small smile and nodded. "I know Malf- Draco from school."

"Oh, do you?" said Narcissa. "Then you should sit together, you'll have things to talk about then, I'm sure." Elizabeth nodded and moved around to Draco, who pulled a chair out for her. He didn't speak, and he looked quite sullen at the whole proceedings. Lucius pulled out a chair for his wife and very shortly they were all seated.

Conversation was sparse and the tension in the room was palpable. Elizabeth was relieved when the plates disappeared and she left when Draco did, following him up the stairs.

She found that his room was across the hallway and two doors down from hers. He glanced back at her when he opened his door, but said nothing, and he disappeared with a slam of his door.

----=[]o[]=----

The next morning when Elizabeth woke the manor was quiet. She scouted around downstairs but saw no one, and eventually she returned to her room. A little while later however, there was a knock on the door and she opened it to find Malfoy, dressed nicely but looking tired and morose.

"My mother said to make sure you got breakfast."

"Oh! Um, alright." He stepped back and Elizabeth followed him into the hall, closing the door behind her.

His brow creased as he looked at her clothes. "Why are you wearing school robes?"

Elizabeth felt a blush stain her cheeks, but she didn't think Malfoy could see in the dim light of the hallway. "I don't have any other robes, but I didn't think it would be appreciated if I wore my usual clothing."

Malfoy mumbled something incomprehensible and motioned for her to walk.

They walked silently side by side to down the stairs. As they descended, Elizabeth asked, "Who was that idiot woman from last night - the one that came into the library?"

Draco's lip quirked in a brief and almost imperceptible sneer. "My Aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Oh... sorry."

Malfoy shrugged. "You aren't the only one that doesn't like her. Where do you want to have breakfast? Dining room, kitchen, courtyard?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Wherever you like."

Malfoy turned off abruptly. "Kitchen's this way."

Elizabeth caught up with him and repeated what she had said the previous night. "Your house is nice."

"It's usually nicer," muttered Malfoy. Elizabeth thought he wasn't going to say anymore, but he surprised her by elaborating. "Usually it's just my parents and I, but this summer there's been people coming and going all the time. I don't like it."

"I wouldn't either. When we came in last night, it was like we were in the middle of nowhere. It seems a shame to spoil it with people."

Malfoy gave a grunt of agreement, holding a door open for her to pass through.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Ah, toast will be fine."

Malfoy snorted. "We have more than toast. What about eggs and bacon?"

Elizabeth relented. "That does sound nicer than toast."

...

When Elizabeth returned to her room after breakfast there was a brown paper-wrapped package on her bed. She untied it to find a pile of new clothes, including several obviously expensive robes.

She wondered who had gotten them for her, and who had paid for them. She couldn't believe that it had been Tom; he didn't really seem like such a thoughtful person, although he hadn't liked her jeans and T-shirt.

She was torn from her thoughts by another knock at the door and she opened it to find Malfoy again. He was standing at the door, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm supposed to keep you entertained."

She took in his stance and decided she didn't want to impose her company on him if he didn't want it. 'That's alright. I'm sure you have better things to do."

"I don't mind. There's nothing much else to do, really. I can't have friends over so," he shrugged, "You're it, unless I want to do assignments."

Elizabeth turned away and rolled her eyes. "Do you know where these clothes came from?" she asked indicating the pile on her bed.

Malfoy stepped into the room and looked at them. "Mother probably ordered them for you."

"Oh! That was nice of her. She didn't have to do that."

Malfoy scowled. "The Dark lord doesn't like muggles, I'm sure you've noticed. It wouldn't please him to see someone walking around in muggle clothes."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Still, it was nice."

"Hmph. Do you want to do something, or not? I was thinking of going outside for a while. I could show you the grounds."

Elizabeth looked out the window. It was a beautiful day, and she was quite intrigued at the prospect of exploring outside.

"Alright. Will you wait a moment while I put one of these robes on?"

Malfoy nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Dressed in a plain black robe, Elizabeth followed Malfoy out through a sun room and into the yard. He led her into a small stone shed with a tin roof and extended a broom to her.

Elizabeth hesitated, and Malfoy gave the first smile – or smirk, rather – that she had seen on his face since she had arrived at the manor. "Don't worry, you won't get skewered again. I'll be careful."

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile back. She did want to go flying again; it had been a while. "Alright."

She took the broom from him and they walked out onto the grass, mounted their brooms and took to the sky. Malfoy pointed out several landmarks on the Malfoy Estate, including the fountain, a small lake, and a forested area that bordered the edge of the property.

They flew around for several hours before going in to lunch.

"Do you know where T- er.. Voldemort is?" asked Elizabeth as they sat in the courtyard eating lunch.

Draco looked up sharply. "Don't call him that!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Well do you?"

"I've no idea."

They sat in silence for a while before Malfoy asked, "Why are you here? I never had you pegged as a Death Eater, and I always thought you were a muggle-born."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Everyone thinks I'm muggle-born. I did myself until I came to Hogwarts and the Sorting Hat mentioned my parents."

"Oh yes, you live in an orphanage, don't you?" asked Malfoy, sneering slightly.

She sneered right back. "It isn't as if I had much of a choice, Malfoy. We weren't all born with a silver spoon shoved up our bum."

Malfoy snorted, choking on his sandwich. "Alright, alright! No need to get so defensive. Anyway, you haven't answered my question yet – why are you _here?_"

It was a full minute before Elizabeth answered. "I'm looking for my mother."

"And?"

"And people here are helping me. That's it."

"I don't believe you."

Elizabeth looked at him with a wry smile. "There's not much I can do about that."

----=[]o[]=----

That night, their booklists from Hogwarts came. Elizabeth opened hers and found, to her great satisfaction, that she also had received a letter proclaiming her Head Girl.

She had to admit she had been expecting it, though she had been slightly worried she would lose it to Padma.

"What are you smirking about?" asked Draco, looking up from the list of books he would need for his classes.

Elizabeth held up her badge and Draco scowled, the jealousy clearly evident on his pale, pointed face. "Congratulations," he said bitterly.

"Thank you."

"Does it say who got head boy?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No."

"Probably Potter," grumped Draco, throwing aside his parchment. "I _would _have been in with a chance – until the end of last year."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. She certainly felt sympathy for Draco, especially after seeing how the war was affecting him and his family, but he had made his decisions and now he had to live with the consequences.

"I'm going up to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

Draco grunted a reply and Elizabeth left the library, only to run in Tom and drop the books and letters she was carrying.

Tom bent down, picking up the letter that said she was head girl.

He read it, and his nostrils flared in approval. "Head Girl, a worthy achievement."

Elizabeth smiled at the praise.

"What results do you achieve in your classes?"

Elizabeth looked up in surprise. "I am at or near the top of all of my classes, but they are mostly theoretical. My wand work _is_ slightly above average, but it isn't extraordinary."

"You have not completed reading the Book, have you?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

"When you come of age, you will be in full control of your magic. Until then, you are only using a portion of it. When you turn seventeen and gain your full abilities, I assure you, you will be more that _average_."

Elizabeth frowned, pausing to think about what Tom had said.

"We shall go tomorrow afternoon to the Bishop residence," said Tom suddenly, handing back the letter that designated her head girl.

Elizabeth felt a rush of excitement. "Really?"

Tom scowled in annoyance. "Yes, really."

"You don't like enthusiasm, do you?"

Tom sneered and walked away. "Be ready after dinner."

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth was following her brother through the entrance hall when Bellatrix entered the doors, stopping short at the sight of them leaving.

"Where are you going?"she asked bluntly, favouring Elizabeth with a scowl.

Tom's face darkened at the question.

"That is not your concern, Bellatrix."

The woman's dark eyes dropped to the floor in deference. "Of course, Master. Forgive me."

She backed out of the room quickly the way she had come and Tom's narrowed eyes followed her.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and looked away from the ugly look on his serpentine face.

"Does my face disturb you?" he asked suddenly.

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's your face. I don't care what you do to it. It might disturb anyone who sees you, though."

Tom narrowed his eyes, but he ran a hand over his face and she watched as his features transformed. His skin became slightly less pale, wavy brown hair appeared on his head and his face became human. He looked hardly older than her.

"Is this more to your liking?" he asked in a sneering voice, but she was glad he had done it. His face _did _ disturb her.

"Is that how you used to look?"

He inclined his head in affirmation. "This is how I looked when I was still Tom Riddle. It will serve as a useful disguise for our visit."

They left Malfoy Manor and walked to the lane that edged the property. Tom took hold of her arm and apparated them directly to the front door of the Bishop's manor.

"What are we going to ask them?"

Tom looked down at her. "Nothing. I am going to perform Legilimency on them."

"Legilimecy?"

"I am going to look into their minds for memories they have of Merope Gaunt. You will not be able to help, nor will you be able to learn anything until I tell you."

Elizabeth frowned. "Can't we just _ask_ them what they know?"

"I do not have time to waste _chatting _casually with these people, not when there are far more efficient ways of gaining the information we need."

"Can I watch?"

"If you like. I doubt it will be particularly interesting, however."

Elizabeth shrugged and Tom turned back to the door. He didn't bother knocking, instead performing an unlocking spell and turning the handle. They stepped in to the dark entrance foyer, closing the door quietly behind them.

Matthew must have heard their footsteps, or perhaps he had been coming that way anyway, because he stepped suddenly out of a room to the left. With a flick of Tom's wand and a burst of red light, Matthew fell to the floor with a thud. There was a tiny scream from the room Matthew had just left and Madeline ran out, her wand drawn. She too, went the same way as Matthew.

Elizabeth pursed her lips at the methods Tom was using. "They're going to report this as soon as we leave! They know my face."

Tom gave her a disparaging glare. "I am not brainless, child. They will be Obliviated before we leave, and they will remember none of this."

"I told you not to call me child."

"Then desist in acting like one. You should not be worrying about trivial problems which are easily solved."

Elizabeth glared and followed Tom as he levitated the two stupefied bodies into the room they had just vacated. it was a lounge room, a little smaller than the sitting room they had taken Elizabeth to when she had first come here.

Tom manipulated their bodies into sitting positions on the lounge and then used his wand to levitate an armchair so that it sat directly opposite them.

Elizabeth watched with interest as Tom stared intensely into Matthew's eyes. After a minute however, Elizabeth realised Tom had been quite truthful when he said it would not be particularly interesting. Getting up, she returned to the entrance hall and went into a room on the other side which she recognised from her previous visit. It was the sitting room, and the walls and mantel of the fireplace were covered with photographs.

Lighting her wand, she moved closer to the mantel to look at them. There were many of the boy that she remembered from the school yearbooks, smiling happily in all of them. At one end of the mantel, the photos showed a baby, and as she moved to the other side of the mantel, the boy grew into a young man.

She stopped at the last one, looking at it for a few minutes. It was a picture of her father with his parents, Madeline holding the customary champagne glass. Her attention returned to her father, and she studied his face. There was barely anything in it that resembled her.

Matthew was smiling jovially into the camera, an arm around his son's shoulders. Madeline was also smiling, that snooty imperious smile that Elizabeth hated. Every few seconds, Madeline would shoot a glare at someone out of the picture and shuffle over, as if there was someone else supposed to be in the photo, but Madeline was not making enough room for them.

Elizabeth tabbed her wand against the glass that covered the photograph. "Move over, go on!" She glared at the photo-Madeline. Her grandmother huffed and shuffled over, and into the picture stepped someone with a face that did resemble Elizabeth's.

It was the first time Elizabeth had ever seen a picture of her mother, but she was sure it must be her.

Merope was a head shorter than Elizabeth, and slightly more slender. She had the same dark hair and eyes, the same mouth. Her smile was timid, and she shot the occasional sad glance at Madeline, but there was happiness in her face when Thom smiled fondly at her.

Hanging around her neck was a chain that Elizabeth recognised immediately – it was the necklace with the Philosopher's Stone.

Her mother was young in the photo; probably no older than her mid-twenties.

Feeling a sudden desire for the photo, Elizabeth pulled the back off the frame and removed the photo. She replaced the frame, looking at the photo. She turned it over, but there was no writing on the back.

When she turned it back around, Madeline had returned to ushering Merope out of the photo, but pulled her back guiltily when she saw Elizabeth looking again. Elizabeth scowled and tapped her wand against the photo, making the figures shuffle around until they were where Elizabeth wanted them. Then, she ripped the photo in two. She had been a bit hasty; half of her father's body was still in the photo with his parents, but the other half was in the one with her mother, and they had their arms around each other.

She tossed the half with her grandparents carelessly onto the mantel and stared at her parents.

"Elizabeth."

She turned to see Tom standing in the doorway. "You did it?" she asked.

He inclined his head.

"Did you find anything?"

Tom shook his head. "No. They were quite ignorant of Merope Gaunt's heritage, much to their detriment. The honour she could have brought their family... they knew only that she moved to London following their son's death."

"Do you know where in London?"

"No. We shall have to find another way of tracking her down."

Elizabeth sighed in frustration and followed Tom out of the house, where they apparated back to the lane outside of Malfoy Manor.

----=[]o[]=----

"Head Girl, Miss Bishop. Congratulations."

Elizabeth looked up to see Snape lowering himself into a chair opposite her and opening a book. "Thank you, sir."

Elizabeth returned to the essay she had been working on, but was interrupted a few minutes later.

"Why are you here, Miss Bishop?"

Elizabeth looked up from her essay.

"If I tell you, are you going to run to the Order and repeat everything I say?"

She smirked at the look that passed over the professor's face, but then sighed and shook her head.

"I don't care where your loyalties lay, Professor, though personally I hope it isn't with Voldemort. You do seem too intelligent a man to be truly loyal to Voldemort."

"And why is that?" asked Snape slowly.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see that he's going to lose."

"Is that so?"

"In my opinion. There will always be someone opposing him. He cannot hold them off forever."

They sat in silence, Elizabeth going back to her essay and trying to ignore Snape's eyes boring into the top of her head.

"You are not a Death Eater," stated Snape.

"No," agreed Elizabeth. "I'm not a Death Eater."

"Everyone is wondering who the Dark Lord's... female companion... is."

Elizabeth scowled at the implication and looked Snape squarely in the face as she answered. "Have you heard of a curse called Motter Morte, Professor?"

Snape nodded, and she saw realisation dawn on his face. He did not question the apparent change of topic. "That is why you have had so many accidents over your time at Hogwarts?"

Elizabeth nodded. "At first they were mere annoyances; it seemed like I just had bad luck. In the last year or so however, the accidents have become truly life-threatening. I did all I could think of to find my mother, because the curse can be lifted only by her will or her death. Eventually I realised I was going to need someone with greater resources than myself."

Snape quirked an eyebrow in scepticism. "And so you turned to the Dark Lord."

"It may not seem it to you, but for me it was the obvious course of action."

"I find it difficult to believe he accepted your request for help in return for information on his mother." A thoughtful frown appeared on Snape's face. "That night, you said that his mother is alive. That is not true."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Supposedly she died giving birth, but I have information which suggests otherwise."

Snape leaned forward, and Elizabeth could see that he was intrigued. "How did you come by this information?"

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table, silently assessing Snape, and then reached into her bag, which was resting against her chair. She pulled out the necklace, into which the Seventh Stone was set, and passed it over to Snape who eyed it with curiosity.

"Do you recognise it?" she asked.

"The Philosopher's Stone was destroyed, six years ago," replied Snape, a frown on his face.

"This is a different stone, one of the experimental versions. It was stolen before the final stone was made."

"I heard that there were faults, side-effects with all but the last stone. Are you saying that Merope Gaunt stole it, and used it, that she is in fact, truly still alive?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, except I don't think _she_ stole it. I tried find out where it went after it was sold at Borgin and Burkes, but Borgin wouldn't or couldn't tell me. I suspect my mother bought it, from there or another seller."

Snape's head snapped up and Elizabeth realised her mistake at once. "Your mother?" He narrowed his eyes. "We were talking about Merope Gaunt."

"Yes," she replied softly, even as a weight lifted off of her shoulders. It felt good to share her secret with someone else.

Snape stared for a moment. "You are saying..."

"Merope Gaunt is my mother. Tom is my brother."

Open shock registered on Snape's face. It was a while before he spoke again.

"I did wonder why he allowed you to call him Tom, a name he spurned long ago," murmured Snape.

Elizabeth snorted. "I was hardly going to call him 'master'. I'm not one of his followers."

There was silence before Elizabeth continued, "I'm not like him, Professor. I don't support his actions, and if my life did not depend on it then I would not be here." She took a deep breath before adding, "I'm sure you can imagine the trouble it would cause me if it became known that I am his sister."

Snape nodded slowly. "I can understand that." He paused, and she waited while he came to a decision. "You have my word no one shall hear it from me."

Elizabeth gave a small smile. "Not even the Order?"

"Not even the Order," replied Snape softly after a long moment.

Elizabeth was greatly relieved. Snape would keep her secret, and she would keep his.

Snape stood to leave, handing the necklace back to her. "Tell me, Miss. Bishop, are you a pureblood?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Through and through."

A smirk played about the corners of Snape's mouth. "And what does the Dark Lord think of that?"

Elizabeth gave a smirk of her own, but she felt slightly sad as she responded, "I'm quite certain he resents me for it."

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth was reading the Daily Prophet when she came across a small article that made her heart stop. She stormed from the library and into the dining hall where Tom was holding a meeting.

"You killed them," whispered Elizabeth, her voice deadly.

Tom looked away from his Death Eaters and glanced coolly at her. "I presume you are talking about Matthew and Madeline Bishop. Yes, I did."

"When we were there!"

"Yes."

Elizabeth walked forward and delivered a stinging slap to his face.

A communal gasp went up from those gathered and a look of complete fury appeared on Tom's face.

Tom grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her away from the gathered Death Eaters.

"Never disrespect me in front of anyone again," he hissed, his face inches from hers and his wand digging sharply into her neck.

"Killing my family, no matter that they _insulted _me, does not engender respect, Tom."

"They slighted you. I will not tolerate that."

Elizabeth pushed aside the small bit of happiness that statement brought her. "It was not your business to tolerate or not!" she yelled, not caring that there were Death Eaters listening.

He turned towards her with an ugly look on his face. "You are my sister" he hissed, quietly so that only she heard it. "And that makes it my business. They insult you, they insult me, and Lord Voldemort does _not_ tolerate insult!" he finished, his voice becoming raised.

They stared each other down, and Elizabeth finally looked away from the evil red eyes of her brother.

"I'm leaving." She knocked his wand away and turned to go.

Tom laughed derisively. "And go where, Elizabeth? You have nothing."

She looked sharply back at him. "I have more than you. Never forget that, Tom."

He sneered and raised his wand again. "Not if I kill you."

"I'd like to see you try," she hissed raising her own wand.

A look of scorn passed over his face. "You think to fight me, sister? You have no chance. I am more powerful than you can possibly imagine. You are not going anywhere."

"You have never seen what I am capable of, either." She was lying; she knew she was nowhere near as powerful as him. Perhaps she would be one day, but she wasn't yet.

"The magic is in the blood, Tom - isn't that what you believe? Power is in the blood, and mine is twice as pure as yours will ever be."

His nostrils flared, and he made a slashing movement with his wand. It happened too quickly for her to react, and she gasped as a stinging sensation ripped through her torso. She let out an angry scream and looked down to see blood blossoming on her robes, and then back up at Tom.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a stinging hex at Tom, but he managed to raise a shield. Almost immediately, her arms and legs snapped together as someone cast a Petrificus Totalus at her.

Tom appeared above her, glaring down with a look of absolute rage. Elizabeth was terrified by the expression on his face.

"Severus. See that her wounds are healed."

He swept away, to be replaced by Snape, who performed the counter and helped her to her feet.

Her cuts were bleeding freely, and she was beginning to feel dizzy as Snape led her to a small room off the side of the dining room.

Elizabeth sat down and undid the buttons on her robe, and lifted the shirt that she was wearing above the cuts.

They were quite deep and still bleeding heavily.

"What curse was that?" she asked, gritting her teeth against the pain as Snape applied some sort of disinfectant to the wound.

Snape grimaced. "Sectumsempra."

The Potions master began to mutter a spell, moving his wand over the cuts. An odd feeling began in the area and she watched in fascination as the skin began to knit itself back together.

When Snape finished the spell and wiped the disinfectant away he gave a grunt of satisfaction. "No scarring. The red marks will fade within a few days."

Elizabeth looked down to see three pale red marks marring the pale skin of her stomach.

"Thanks," she said, pulling her shirt down and redoing the buttons of her robe up.

She was on her way out the door when Snape spoke again. "The Dark Lord has no compassion, Miss. Bishop. He is more lenient with you than I have ever seen him, but I have no doubt he will kill you if you enrage him. I fully expected him to tonight."

Elizabeth paused, her hand on the door handle. "That's the second time you've said that."

Snape sighed. "He is incapable of kindness. Do not think that he cares for you. Do not think that he can."

Elizabeth nodded, swallowing back tears that threatened to spill at Snape's words.

"That's not what I want from him."

"It would be best to convince yourself of that."

----=[]o[]=----

The next week, she and Draco Flooed to King's Cross Station, stepping out onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Elizabeth was immensely relieved to be away from Malfoy Manor and her brother. After he had cursed her, she hadn't seen him for the rest of the holiday, for which she was glad. She also had not been allowed out of the manor, despite the fact that she had wanted to leave.

She felt that the holiday had been a complete waste of her time in regards to finding her mother; she would have preferred to have looked by herself. Tom was too busy with his own interests to spend the time she required on finding Merope Gaunt.

"I suppose you have to go to the prefect's compartment?" Elizabeth was shaken from her thoughts by Malfoy's question.

Elizabeth smiled her goodbye. "Yes. I'll see you around, Draco."

The Slytherin nodded and headed off down the train, his trunk floating behind him. She turned and headed in the opposite direction, towards the front of the train. She too, had a trunk floating behind her. Tom had insisted that an Heir of Slytherin should appear the part, and everything in her trunk was new and expensive.

She didn't like the new things; if they had come from somewhere else she might have, but the fact that he just wanted her to look more respectable did not make her happy.

She arrived at the prefect's compartment to find a few people already there. Terry and Padma were there, as the seventh year Ravenclaw prefects. "Lizzie!" squealed Padma. "I _knew_ you'd get Head Girl! I just knew it."

Elizabeth extricated herself from the hug. "Thanks, Padma."

She turned to Terry and felt a smile creep over her face. She was happy to see him, and she gave him a long hug.

"Do you know who the Head Boy is yet?" she asked, as they sat down, Terry putting his arm around her.

Terry nodded. "Theodore Nott. He was here, but he's gone now. He said he'd be back though."

Elizabeth nodded and introduced herself to the people that she didn't know.

----=[]o[]=----

There were a few surprises at the Sorting Ceremony that night. With Dumbledore dead, Hogwarts was in need of a new Headmaster, and the position had, to the surprise of all the students, been filled by Professor Snape.

There was a great cry of outrage from the students at the announcement, except for many of the Slytherins, who were looking smug. The other teachers at the Head Table sat stiffly, in disapproving silence while Snape made several short start-of-term announcements.

There were new teachers as well; Amycus and Alecto Carrow now filled positions, and Elizabeth scowled in dislike at them. She had seen them several times over the holidays at Malfoy Manor. They were extremely annoying in Elizabeth's opinion, and extremely dense. Alecto had an irritating cackle and Amycus a maddening giggle that they both employed in situations that did not warrant them.

Dinner began after the Sorting, and the room was full of hateful mutters about the ex-potions professor that now sat at the centre of the Head Table. Elizabeth wondered how he could tolerate it. She felt a great deal of sympathy for him, and a great deal of respect for the position he was in.

----=[]o[]=----

A few weeks later, Elizabeth was approached by Draco in the library. She had seen little of him outside of their classes, and she had found that she missed his company. He was happier at Hogwarts than he had been at the Manor, though she could see he was still under strain.

"My father told me to tell you that you're to come with me this Thursday."

Elizabeth felt anticipation rise in her. She had been waiting impatiently to hear from Tom, eager to further their search for Merope Gaunt.

"Where do you want to meet?"

----=[]o[]=----

Draco side-along-apparated her to Malfoy Manor late on Thursday night, and they hurried in to the drawing room.

Narcissa and Lucius were not looking well, both looking tired and wan, and she felt a stab of pity for them. Draco bowed to Tom and then went to their sides, letting his mother hold him tightly.

She ignored the curious looks that they sent her way and waited for Tom to speak. He didn't; he simply beckoned and left the room. She gave a short nod and a sympathetic smile to the Malfoys and followed after him, back out to the lane.

"Where are we going?"

"London. There is an apartment block there where I believe Merope Bishop lived for a short time. This information comes from a woman she knew when she was living with Thom Bishop."

They apparated into a dingy alleyway, and Elizabeth pulled her cloak around her to ward against the cool breeze.

Tom was sneering in disgust at their surroundings as they walked through the darkness to a building across the street. They bypassed the stairs, going instead to a door down a small hallway. Elizabeth assumed this was the landlord's residence.

Tom stepped the doorknob and the locked clicked, allowing him to turn the knob freely and open the door.

Elizabeth could hear the sounds of a T.V. coming through softly from another room, which emitted a silvery, fluctuating light.

Tom wasted no time in stepping into the room and approaching the man who had fallen asleep in front of the television.

A spark shot out of Tom's wand, startling the man awake. he had only a second of surprise before Tom cast a Petrificus Totalus, leaving the man unable to move anything but his eyes.

Tom stared down at him, and after a brief minute, he turned away. "We are done here," he said to Elizabeth.

"Aren't you going to release him," she asked as they left the apartment.

"It will wear off shortly."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, but supposed the landlord was lucky, compared with Madeline and Matthew.

"Did you learn anything from him?"

"He had forgotten, but the information was still there in his mind. It simply needed to be retrieved."

"So?"

"She was here, when she was pregnant with you. He recalls her as a slightly odd, but polite young woman who paid her rent on time and caused no trouble. She left in early July of 1980."

"When I was born," stated Elizabeth.

"Yes. Where she went from there, he did not know. She simply disappeared."

"So we check old record of the hospitals around here?"

"That would be the obvious course of action."

After that, Elizabeth returned to Hogwarts. Tom apparated them to Hogwarts' gates and she began the walk across the extensive lawns that led to the castle's doors.

She turned the handle of the huge door, but before she pushed it open she looked back. Across the grounds, she could dimly make out Tom's dark figure standing at the gates. She turned away and pushed open the doors, and it was then that she heard the sharp crack of apparition.

----=[]o[]=----

A surprise came at Christmas. Along with the gifts from her friends, there was a small unmarked package.

She unwrapped the paper to find a small fur bag with a drawstring. She opened it, and found inside a fine silver chain with a small silver snake hanging from it. It was twisted three times around itself, its nose touching its tail. Two tiny green stones were set in it, sparkling emerald eyes that twinkled in the morning light.

Elizabeth looked at it curiously, unable to believe that her brother had sent her a gift. But she could think of no one else who would have sent it.

She stuck two fingers into the bag and found there was a slip of parchment in there. It read '_for protection.'_

Even as she wondered what the gift meant, Elizabeth smiled with pleasure and slipped it over her neck. Snape had said that the Dark Lord held no compassion, but perhaps he had never had anyone he considered worthy of his affection.

Still smiling, Elizabeth allowed herself a tiny bit hope.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth spent several nights in her brother's company, following leads that led nowhere. He had taken to charming his face when she was there, so that he looked as he once had, and she liked to think that he did it because he knew she didn't like the face he really had.

She had thanked him for the necklace, but he had sneered and waved her thanks aside. "It is endowed with charms to protect you, should anyone attempt to harm you. Several of the charms may also aid in warding off the curse."

She couldn't decide if she was saddened by his answer or buoyed by it.

The year was flying by, and she was becoming extremely disillusioned. Her marks were dropping, given the state of affairs in the castle and her late night absences.

The teachers were forever preoccupied with the war, finding little time to mark assignments, or even set them. A number of parents had removed their children from the school, preferring to keep them at home than send them to a school that was run by a known Death Eater.

Amycus and Alecto Carrow were abysmal teachers, and delighted in disciplining students with punishments that far outweighed the crime.

In addition to the hectic state that everyone had to put up with, Elizabeth was plagued by accidents brought on by the curse. On one occasion, a torch had fallen off the wall as she passed, lighting her robes on fire, on another occasion a wrongly labelled jar meant Madam Pomfrey gave her a potion that reacted adversely with another potion, leaving her choking when her throat closed up and her lips began to turn blue.

All in all, it was turning out to be a horrible year.

----=[]o[]=----

One night after another worthless night with Tom, this time going through paper records, Elizabeth arrived back relatively early and found most people still awake in the common room.

"Padma, have you seen Terry?"

"Um... I think he might be up in his room."

"Thanks." Elizabeth smiled at her friend and headed up to the dormitories, hoping Terry was alone. He was, and she knocked softly before entering.

He greeted her with a hug. "You were out late again last night."

Elizabeth shrugged and began to move away, but Terry grabbed her hands tightly in his, looking deeply and seriously into her eyes.

"Where do you go off to these nights when you're out so late?"

"Terry..."

He took a deep breath and when he spoke, it was as if the words were causing him pain.

"Lizzie... if you're... if you're a Death Eater, will you please tell me." Terry looked at her with sad eyes, and hurt in his voice, but she said nothing. Neither did she pull her hands from his. She supposed she should have expected something like this from someone eventually.

"I won't... won't tell anyone. I don't want to see you hurt. But I have to know."

She didn't move as his eyes turned to her left arm and he slowly drew back the sleeve of her robes. She saw the relief that flooded his features, the tension that went out of him, at the sight of her bare forearm.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie." He raised his eyes to hers, the apology in them obvious.

She felt a little guilty; after all, it was a logical guess, and she had been with Death Eaters on the nights she wasn't at Hogwarts, but she couldn't tell him that. She gave him a smile. "It's alright, Terry. You don't have to apologise."

"Yes, I do. I shouldn't have thought that of you. I don't know how I could have, now."

He ran his finger over her arm, raising the hair on her body.

Terry raised her arm and pressed a soft kiss to her forearm, and then put her arm around his neck, moving his lips to hers.

Their kiss was slow and passionate, but his kisses soon became harder and more desperate. She gasped softly when Terry's hand undid the buttons of her robe and his hand slipped beneath. His warm hand felt nice against her skin.

She slipped her own hands beneath his shirt, running them lightly over his back.

"Lizzie," he breathed into her ear. "Let me make love to you?"

She sighed. "Terry..."

"Mm?"

"I – I'm not ready for that. Not yet. I'm sorry."

Terry sighed and drew back, but then pulled her to the bed and enveloped her in his arms. "Alright." He kissed the top of her head. "Alright."

----=[]o[]=----

One night approaching the end of the school year, Elizabeth was called to the Headmaster's office.

She had never been there before, and she let the winding staircase carry her upwards while she grew curious as to what was at the top. There was a gold door, and she knocked. The door swung open. "Miss. Bishop, come in."

Snape was looking terrible; his face was gaunt, and the scowl that seemed permanently etched on to his face was as heavy as usual. She hoped he got the thanks he deserved when all of this was over.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, come and sit down."

They sat down on opposite sides of the desk. "It seems your search for your mother may finally be at an end."

Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat. "You're serious? He's found her? I thought he wasn't looking except when he called me."

"He has had other people looking for him when he is not able, though he has not been able to spare many, or for very long at a time. Still, she has been found and you are to meet him tomorrow night. You will be coming with me, so I want you waiting in the Entrance Hall at eleven."

----=[]o[]=----

Snape apparated them to Malfoy Manor. Tom greeted them with a nod at Snape. "Severus."

"My Lord." With that, Snape turned and left.

Tom turned to look at her. "Merope Gaunt resides in St. Mungo's under the name Merope Bishop. She is kept in the Freeli Waskall Ward and has not been in her right mind for quite some time now."

Elizabeth felt a rush of relief, followed by the settling of cold dread. This was it. Tonight, there was every chance she was going to commit murder. She nodded slowly. "How did you find her?"

"I have had several people making discreet enquiries. Given the nature of the Seventh Stone's magic, it was not unfeasible that she was hospitalised somewhere. I did not expect it would be St. Mungo's. Nevertheless, that is where she is and that is where we are going, if you are ready?"

Elizabeth straightened and nodded. "I'm ready."

----=[]o[]=----

They apparated into an alleyway in London, the moon shining brightly down and casting the alley in a silvery light.

Tom rapped her sharply over the head with his wand, and she turned to scowl at him as a cold slippery feeling slid over her. "What was that?"

"A disillusionment charm. Come."

As she watched, he faded from view, and she looked down at herself to see... the ground. She could tell where she was, and where Tom was, because the illusion of whatever was behind them took a moment to catch up when they moved, creating a sort of fipple through the air that was only visible if you look carefully.

She followed the ripple and the sound of Tom's footsteps around to a glass window that faced out onto the street. Dummies dressed in old fashioned clothing stood in the window, and suddenly she lost sight of Tom. There was no ripple in the air and his footsteps had stopped.

Then, she felt a hand on her elbow. "Step through the window."

She did so, and on the other side, Tom's hand dropped from her arm. "This way."

They passed quietly by a guard and a healer's station, making their way up to the fourth floor.

All too soon for Elizabeth, they came to the Freeli Waskall Ward. There was a small visitor's room in between the corridor and the ward and they stepped in. Tom removed their disillusionment charms.

Elizabeth moved tentatively towards the door that opened into the ward and laid her hand on the knob. She turned it and looked expectantly back at Tom, who had not moved. "Aren't you coming," she asked, with a slight waver in her voice.

Tom didn't move, and Elizabeth took that as a no. She slipped into the room. There were several beds in the ward, most whose patients were sleeping. There was one patient however, up the far end of the ward, who was sitting cross legged on the bed and staring out the window, silver moonlight illuminating her familiar features.

Elizabeth walked slowly and quietly to the bed and came to a stop beside it, staring at Merope Gaunt.

She was abominably thin, and though Elizabeth knew she was physically no older than about forty, her face was gaunt and her skin grey, her eyes roaming in crazed circles around everything except Elizabeth.

She rocked back and forth in the thin white gown, her lank black hair falling about her face and clinging wetly her skin.

"Merope Gaunt?"

The wasted woman gave no indication that she had even heard Elizabeth.

Elizabeth crouched down on her knee in front of the woman and called her name again, receiving no response.

"M-mother? Mum..." whispered Elizabeth. The words sounded foreign coming from her lips, and entirely _wrong_.

"I'm Elizabeth... your daughter..." She trailed off,

It didn't appear that Merope had even heard her, and if she had, she gave no indication that she understood.

"I need... I need you to take the curse off of me. Please..."

She was met only with silence, except for the frantic and incoherent mumbles that Merope continued to make.

"Motter Morte... do you remember?"

Her mother's mutters and head rolls and vague gestures continued.

She realised suddenly it was no use; the Philosopher's Stone had clearly driven her mother mad, addling her mind with its twisted magic.

Slowly and reluctantly Elizabeth drew her wand, staring first at it and then her mother with wide eyes. She knew what she had to do, but now that she came to it, she was completely undone.

She was going to _kill_ someone. No, not just someone; her own mother!

Elizabeth stood tall and pointed her wand, her mind running over the multitude of ways she could do it. All along, she had imagined using the Killing Curse, but now she was here, she knew she would not be able to do it.

She knew cutting hexes; slash an artery and her mother could be dead in minutes, leaving Elizabeth free of the curse, free to live her life without the fear of being killed in some tragic accident. The scene flashed before her eyes; her mother, lying pale and dead on the cold floor, surrounded by a growing pool of deep red blood. Elizabeth took an involuntary step backwards, as if there really was bloody slowly crawling closer to her shoes.

A crushing hex would do the job, but it would be equally messy. There would be a sickening crunch of bones, the crack of pulverised ribs and the squish of compacted organs.

She could use a bludgeoning curse, one that would spatter her mother's brains over the wall, leaving her body broken and smashed to pieces. Her body would be like a bag of bones with shattered shards that broke the skin in placed, protruding like ivory spears.

A suffocating curse would do it, too. Merope Gaunt would cease her insane mumblings and her mad eyes would widen in terror. She would grasp at her throat and splutter as she tried and failed to suck air into her lungs. After an interminable minute or so, she would fall limp, her lips bluing and her eyes dull.

With a feeling of hopelessness Elizabeth lowered her wand, her gaze falling from the broken woman in front of her. She might not like Merope Gaunt, might _hate _her, but she could not bring herself to kill the defenceless waif that continued to rock backwards and forwards in front of her, oblivious to the murderous thought running through her daughter's mind.

Elizabeth felt a hand gently grasp her shoulder and turned her head to see Tom looking down at her.

"I can't do it..." she whispered, unshed tears choking her voice.

He squeezed her shoulder and spoke as he guided her out of the room. "That is nothing to be ashamed of."

Out in the dim hallway, she watched as he closed the door.

There was a murmur of voices, but she couldn't understand the words which were exchanged.

There was a brief silence, and she held her breath, straining for any sound. Another word was spoken, a green light came and went in a split second, and a muffled thump reached her ears.

A choked sob escaped her, and she closed her eyes, collapsing into one of the hard wooden chairs.

The spell had woken some of the other ward patients, and someone had begun to cry loudly, waking up the rest. Excited chatter broke out, as Tom swept into the visitor's room.

"Come. We must be gone."

Elizabeth nodded and stood, allowing Tom to once again Disillusion her. They hurried from the building, slowing only when several nurses rushed past them in the direction they had just come.

They returned to the alleyway they had apparated to and Tom grabbed her arm to apparate them. Elizabeth pulled her arm away and looked up at him. "Did she know you?"

Tom paused before answering, as if choosing his words carefully. "She... reacted... to me. Whether or not she knew me as her _son_ is another matter entirely. "She was no longer in her right mind, if she ever was entirely. She barely realised she was even alive, her mind was so tormented."

"Are you trying to justify killing her?" muttered Elizabeth.

"I am saying it makes no difference whether she is alive or dead. Either way, it had to be done."

Elizabeth nodded numbly.

"I shall return you to Hogwarts."

"I don't want to go back to Hogwarts," she choked, and before she had thought about it, she buried her face into his robes, not caring that he flinched and stiffened. After a moment however, he put a hand on her back. It wasn't exactly comforting, but it was something.

She didn't cry; she simply stood, and tried to gain her equilibrium. A few minutes later, Tom wrapped his arms around her and she felt him turn, apparating them away from London.

"Come along now, Elizabeth. Stop this. You may stay at the Manor tonight and I will have someone take you back to school tomorrow."

Elizabeth allowed him to lead her by a hand on the shoulder up to the large Manor.

When they stepped into the entrance chamber, Bellatrix Lestrange was waiting silently in the front room. Elizabeth had always been good at reading people, and she could tell that Bellatrix was nervous, despite the fact that her face was blank and she stood silent and still.

Bellatrix," said Tom, a question in the name, and there was a dangerous edge to his voice as if he too, could tell she had bad news.

"I received an owl from the goblins my Lord. The vault was broken into."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Tom and Bellatrix's nervousness visibly increased.

"The cup was stolen, my Lord."

"Impossible!" he snarled, and Bellatrix flinched as Tom aimed his wand at her.

"Crucio!" he hissed, and Bellatrix fell to the floor, her hands clawed and her back arching as pain coursed through her.

He did not hold the curse for long, quickly lowering his wand and spinning abruptly on his heel. He strode toward the doors.

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth called after him, and then ran to catch up. "Tom! I don't – I don't want to be alone."

Tom let out a snarl and grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the Manor and back to the lane. "Do exactly as I say, or I will leave you behind," he snapped, and she nodded in compliance.

When they apparated, it was to a dark cave. Elizabeth had no idea where they were, and she could see nowhere they could go, but Tom strode forward, putting his wand to his forearm as he did so.

She gasped as he made a cutting motion with the wand, and a gas appeared on his arm. It was only small however, and the blood trickled slowly.

Tom rubbed his arm against the stone wall and at once the rock faded away, revealing an archway.

She hastened to step through behind him, and they found themselves in a huge cavern.

His long strides caused her to jog to keep up as they made their way around the lake to a small wooden boat. To all but lifted her into it when she was too slow, and the little boat began to move slowly across the lake towards a small island in the middle.

She could sense Tom's rising impatience at the speed – or lack thereof – of the boat. When it finally bumped against the little shore, Tom stepped out and walked to a basin that stood on the island.

He took one look at it and let out a snarl of rage, a ripple of magic moving away from him as he lost control of his anger.

"I think I'd like to go now," said Elizabeth quietly, and Tom took a deep breath. Gradually the look of utter fury left his face and he turned to her.

"I will return you to Hogwarts."

...

When they left the cave and apparated however, it was not to Hogwarts. They left the cave, and from there he apparated them to an empty lane on a hill that overlooked a small town. A small dilapidated shack stood off to one side of the road, and Tom told her to wait. He went into the shack, emerging moments later with fury again etched on his face.

They returned then to Malfoy Manor, and Elizabeth watch, unable to do anything as he called his army to him and told them that this was the night they would take Hogwarts.

Without a word to her, he and the black-robed men and women left the Manor.

Elizabeth walked over to Tom as he followed them out, but he turned to her and spoke, with a tone that brooked no argument.

"You will stay here, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's eyes bulged and she stepped forward with her hands on her hips. "No, I will not, Tom!"

Tom's nostrils flared. "I do not have time for this. You will remain here."

"Miss. Bishop, I suggest you do as he says," said a masked figure who had stepped up beside them, and she recognised Snape's voice. "You do not want to be at Hogwarts tonight."

Elizabeth's nostrils flared in anger. "They are my friends!" she hissed.

Tom sneered. "And would they still be, if they knew who you were?"

"That's got nothing to do with it!" Elizabeth spluttered. "They're my friends – I care about them!"

"That means nothing," said Tom, stepping back. "Severus, we go."

The two turned away and left, the door slamming behind them.

Elizabeth rushed after them, but when she pulled at the door it refused to open. "Aggh!" she yelled in frustration, kicking the door. She gave it another yank, and then turned away. There had to be another way out.

She raced through the house, trying the windows and the other doors that led outside, but to no avail.

She was about to give up when an idea occurred to her. "Greer!" she shouted, and there was an immediate pop.

"Greer, take me outside!" she ordered.

Greer had no choice but to do as she said; during the first week Elizabeth had come to Malfoy Manor, Tom had ordered Greer to do as she asked.

Greer stepped forward and clasped Elizabeth's wrist with a long-fingered hand, and a split second later they were outside. Elizabeth ran down the gravel path, but when she came to the wrought-iron gate, she found she could not open it.

She called on Greer again, frustrated and angered by the hold-up.

"I need to be outside the gates!" she snapped at the elf, and moments later she was. Turning on the spot, she apparated.

----=[]o[]=----

Elizabeth fought for the school. She stupefied as many Death Eaters as she could, thankfully avoiding any curses sent her way. It occurred to her at some point that if her mother was still alive, she probably would not have been this lucky. The necklace around her neck had grown warm also, and she wondered if it was working its magic, protecting her from harmful spells.

After a while a halt was called to the battle, and Elizabeth helped to carry bodies into the castle. there were so many people injured or dead, and she felt immensely guilty. She knew it wasn't her fault, but her _brother_ had done this. Her brother was hurting and killing people she knew.

The battle resumed, this time Elizabeth fought inside the castle.

Elizabeth snorted at the irony when she saw the Flame of Founders - the symbolic representation of interhouse unity - burning a bright white, probably for the first time since Tom himself had been at Hogwarts.

Again she fought her brother's followers. She fought a hard duel with a man she recognised as Yaxley, but eventually she took him down.

She whirled around, and directly in front of her, Tom was battling Professor Sprout and a red-headed boy she didn't know.

Behind him, a teacher, Professor Vector, had just subdued a black robed figure and he turned now towards Tom. The professor's eyes widened as he laid eyes on Tom, and Elizabeth watched as he aimed his wand at her brother's back. His lips began to move in a spell, and before she could think, she whipped her wand out, and without a spoken word, a red light burst from her wand and speared Professor Vector, sending him crashing to the floor, stupefied.

Tom's eyes flared in approval as he spun and caught the scene.

A Death Eater burst through the crowd, looked down at the professor and gave her a nod before turning away. He too, she stupefied.

The Death Eater fell, and Elizabeth looked up into her brother's eyes. In the brief moment before he turned away, she saw disappointment in the burning orbs.

It became evident that Tom's army was losing. There were now very few silver-masked figures left, and the ones that were were dropping like flies, greatly outnumbered by students and teachers and aurors.

And then, there was only Tom, he and Harry circling the middle of the hall while everyone else moved to the edges of the room.

"He's going to die," she whispered, her voice constricted and her throat burning. She wasn't quite sure who she was talking about. The spectators seemed so sure that Harry could defeat Tom, but she had seen what Tom could do, seen his unstoppable power.

They were talking; their lips were moving, but she could not hear what they were saying. A loud rushing sound had filled her ears, blocking out all other sound. She must have swayed, because someone laid a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Avada Kedavra!"

At the same time Tom shouted the spell, Harry yelled "Expelliarmus!"

Tom's spell rebounded upon its caster, his wand flying through the air and in to Harry's hand.

A wave of dizziness washed over her as Tom's eyes became dull and his body crumpled to the floor.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat and she felt like she was in a dream. Every detail was burned into her retinas, but it all felt surreal. Around her, people began to laugh and cry and scream and cheer, but she remained unmoving, still staring in disbelief at Tom's lifeless body.

The crowd surged around her, people hugging and rushing to congratulate their hero. She was shunted forward and the mass of bodies blocked her view, allowing her mind to catch up with her eyes.

She wandered helplessly for over an hour, barely noticing when they removed Tom's body from the hall and conjured tables for everyone.

No one noticed when she left the hall. They were too busy with their families, too busy with their celebration. Elizabeth could understand why they were so happy, but as she turned her back on the smiling, laughing people, she hated them for it.

Of course, not everyone was celebrating. She passed bodies laid out to one side of the Hall, surrounded by solemn friends and family. They had lost people they cared about. She could sympathise with that.

His body had been laid in a room to the side of the Great Hall, and she slipped in unnoticed by anyone.

She approached the body with caution, as if she expected him to jump up at any moment. In some ways, she didn't want to look, but she couldn't stay away, either.

Tom's face was no paler in death than it had been in life, but his eyes, which stared lifelessly up at the stone ceiling were no longer the vibrant red she remembered. Now, they were dull maroon, a cruel parody on his Slytherin face.

She kneeled beside his body for a second and then laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his chest, and for the first time since she had been a young child, Elizabeth allowed her tears to fall.

----=[]o[]=----

Well that turned out a _lot_ longer than I had anticipated.

So that's it and I'm sorry to those reading that it took me so long to get this last chapter out. I hope it was worth the wait : )

I thought it was a shame for one of the Founder's families to die out, so I came up with this story to appease myself. Please review and tell me whether you liked it or hated it. No one reviewed the last chapter. I cried...

If people liked it, I'm planning a (probably short) sequel where Elizabeth comes back to Hogwarts, possibly called the Flame of the Founders. What do people think; should she come back still as a student to repeat her seventh year, or as a professor a few years later?

If you have any other requests for a different story, please feel free to let me know as well.


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